Play@YSDC

SS Gabrielle – Atlantic Ocean, off the US Eastern Board
The Evening – Monday 11th September 1933

The party continues until well after sunset - champagne flows freely and Starkweather and Moore both toast the future and the expedition’s good fortune, grinning ear to ear. Peter Sykes entertains the party with old Newfoundland whaler’s chanteys accompanied by spoons and cook-pot drums, and offers to teach the words to whomever wants to learn. The evening also offers an ideal chance for the more well-travelled members of the team regale one another with tales of previous great adventures they have had and disasters they have witnessed.

The ship moves smoothly through Atlantic waters. The rise and fall of the vessel in the waves, while noticeable, is gentle and soothing, accompanied by the continuous faint thrum of the great engines below decks. Everyone is a little wobbly at first, until they get their sea legs, but within hours the motion of the ship seems natural. The champagne naturally helps quite a lot with this environmental adjustment.

SS Gabrielle – Atlantic Ocean, off the US Eastern Board
08:00am (EST) – Tuesday 12th September 1933
Course = 180°
Speed = 11 knots
Position = N37°22’ W074°0’
Mapquest Map Link

The Gabrielle makes steady progress though the night, the crew taking their watches as the members of the Starkweather-Moore expedition sleep. As the explorers rise from their bunks in the morning they find that the day is overcast, but fine. A gusty wind is blowing and the grey Northern Atlantic is choppy, but still not enough to threaten the stomachs of any but the weakest of constitutions.

After freshening up and dressing most members of the expedition make their way to their respective messes for breakfast with the crew.

[OOC: Meals are communal affairs, served family style from the cook’s big pots in the galley.
Kitt (as the only lady aboard), James (an expedition financier) and Professor Graves are expected to join Captain Vredenburgh, his officers, Starkweather, Moore and the expedition’s other Professors (Griffith, Bryce, Myers and Albemarle) in the Officer’s Mess. Meals here are leisurely affairs, with fine porcelain and silver, followed by brandy and cigars after dinner.
The other twenty-odd expedition members gather in the Crew’s Mess aft, and eat their meals off of scuffed steel and crockery. The crew’s sitting is usually a loud friendly affair.]


Breakfast for the expedition is served from 8—9 a.m. each morning. A small chalkboard is set up in both mess halls. They are updated every morning to show the ship’s position in latitude and longitude, the times of sunrise and sunset, the predicted weather, and any assignments or classes offered for the day.

Tuesday 12th September 1933
Latitude: N 37° 30’
Longitude 74° 00’
Sunrise: 05:35
Sunset: 18:08
Todays Weather: Overcast, possible rain
Wind Speed: 10-20 mph

Today’s Classes:

Morning:
Sykes - Clothes and Equipment – Officer’s Mess
Greene - Antarctic First-Aid – Expedition Lab
Pulaski & Frodesen – Sledding – Aftcastle

Afternoon:
G & N Sorensen - Technical Climbing – Crew’s Mess
Miles - Aeroplane Maintenance - #2 Tweendeck Hold
Gilmore - The Pabodie Ice-Drill Operation - #1 Tweendeck Hold
Moore - Antarctic Exploration – Officer’s Mess

Evening:
Griffith - Antarctic Geology – Officer’s Mess
Halperin - Aerial Navigation – Expediton Lab
Laroche – Basic Wireless Operation – Ship’s Radio Room

Professor Moore makes it clear to everybody that he expects each member of the team to make good use of the time available to prepare for the expedition.

“There is a tremendous amount of expertise aboard this ship; so lets make sure that we share as much of that knowledge around as we can! I expect anybody not running a class to sign up for one.”

In the crews mess ‘Doctor Hunky’ Richard Greene suggests that the deck space could be used for a friendly sporting tournament during the voyage, at least while the weather is good, his idea is met with enthusiasm by the Sorensen Brothers and also by Samuel Winslow, they sign up immediately as does James Starkweather as soon as he hears about it.

Jack glances at the chalkboard with the classes as he moves into the crew mess. He supposes that these are good ideas, but somehow he can't work up much enthusiasm for any of it this morning. Sighing a bit, he determines to join the Antarctic first aid and exploration courses, seeing as how they seem like the best introductions to a subject he knows painfully little about. Plus, it'd been a few years since he'd had to try to patch up buddies in the war, so a first aid refresher was probably a good idea. The evenings will have to be free for him to write and file his stories, though he does make a mental note to tell Laroche that if he needs a hand some night with the radio course that he could probably make some time. Laroche seems like a decent fellow, and Jack really isn't in a position to help anyone else, really, given his lack of a specialization.

He looks around for Kitt and some of the others but then remembers that some of the favored would be dining in the officers mess. Well, that was just as well, he thinks. At least Starkweather won't be poking his head in down here. Jack would have to see him enough as part of doing his stories for the paper; having to dine with the blowhard would probably send Jack heading for the railing. Jack'd had his fill of officer types in the war; for all their rough edges and worse, the crew members here would at least have a bluntness to them, an honesty born of hard labor and shared trial, that officers and gentlemen sometimes lacked.

Olof studies the list of classes and decides quickly that he should ask Gilmore if he can help with his class about the Pabodie drill. After all Olof is supposed to operate the amazing machine and after all he has studied it extensively ashore. He also decides that his interested to learn more about the geology of Antarctica, but feels that he knows too little about the subject himself to teach about it. He knows rocks and mining, but the geology of Antarctica is not something he had studied in detail. He also decides to attend Sykes class in the morning.

OOC: Sykes in the morning, Helping Gilmore in the afternoon and visiting Griffith in the evening.

Looking at the classes available, Callum signs up for the morning First Aid lessons with Dr. Greene, and the evening Basic Wireless Operation.
"I'm am looking at running a couple of courses myself." says Callum "Polar Survival and Climbing, if any one is interested? I could even help out Gunnar and Nils if you wish Professor?"

Looking through the lists of classes available, James decides to attend the Sledding course in the morning, and the Climbing course in the afternoon.

This gets James thinking, that he could hold some Boxing classes, to help keep up fitness levels on the ship. He heads of to find Professor Moore to see if this can be arranged...

McRaven squeezes in between the others to get a better look at whats on offer. The maintenance course catches his eye, as he has never really handled the new boeing, then the late night aerial navigation course looks good to the pilot as well. So picking up a pen he puts himself down for those two.

Maurice finds that as his duties lighten at sea the boredom that accompanies inactivity sets in rather fast. The thrill of the sea and the voyage wears thin after only a few hours leaving him uncomfortable and out of sorts.

Seeing how there are several courses being offered he decides to offer training on Heavy Equipment Operation, which practically no one attends. Resolved to make the best of his situation he steels his mind on his family back home relying on him and decides to attend a few of the outdoor classes, climbingm, dog sledding and cold weather survival seem like rather useful skills to know when planning a trip to the south pole. Maybe there, Maurice thinks, I can finally touch base with the other crew members and make some new friends.

Graves compliments Moore for arranging such interesting courses. "If it's alright with Dr Greene I would certainly like to assist in his first aid class, I'm sure he'll need a volunteer victim to bandage etc. I'd also like to sign up for the Antarctic Exploration and Basic Wireless Operation classes.

Moore and Greene talking to Callum, James and Graves:

Moore had been hoping that the experienced Callum MacDonald would offer to help, “That’s excellent, I’m sure that Nils and Gunnar will appreciate your expertise. I’ve been meaning to ask you, but with everything that’s happened over the last few days I never had the time.”

“They will also be running a course on the correct use of snow boots and skis, while Peter Sykes’ class about the cold weather clothing is essential stuff. You could help out one of those classes, or offer survival tips of your own. Greene’s first aid course will also deal with such things as hyperthermia and frost bite and I’m sure that Professor Graves will have a few things to add as well. Right Charles?”

“Callum perhaps you could ask Isugtag if he’d like to offer some advice as well, there really isn’t ever to much that you can know about such things.”

Richard Greene, who has been discussing aspects of the first-aid class with Professor Graves interrupts when he hears James suggesting boxing classes, “That’s a great idea James; perhaps we could include a little boxing tournament as one of the sporting events once everyone has had a little practice? You can count me in.”

Moore agrees that anything that helps maintain fitness during the voyage is a good idea, provided the classes don’t descend into bare-knuckle brawls; fortunately James has a couple of pairs of boxing gloves packed for just this purpose. Moore chalks the boxing lessons up to start that evening.

Albert Gilmore talking to Olof:

The heavy scarred engineer is delighted that his friend Olof will be joining him training other expedition members in the basics of operating Pabodie’s marvellous drilling machine. “It will be an opportunity to show with the others the state of the art equipment that we will be using!”

Starkweather talking to James, later that morning:

Starkweather calls James over later while they are both walking on the deck, “Damn good idea about the boxing James! Keep the lads fit eh? Nothing like a little sporting competition to keep the morale up!”

“I was a dab hand myself at Eton and Oxford, school champion in fact. So you can put me down for the classes.”

“Right then, must dash! Looking for that Greene fellow to suggest a few things for his sporting tournament, another damn good idea I must say!”

Starkweather talking to Maurice:

On his way to find Greene, Starkweather bumps into Maurice, “Ah Maurice just the lad, I trust you’re settling in well with the rest of the lads!”

“Anyway I’ll off to find Greene to sort out this sporting thing, it’s a bloody good morale booster I think. I trust you’ll be joining in, you look fit enough.”

“Come on lets find the good doctor before he starts his first aid classes.”

James is pleased that Dr.Greene and Capt. Starkweather will be joining in the Boxing exercises. He assures Professor Moore that this will be done professionally, and not develope into an excuse for a fist fight. He suggests to Starkweather, that as he was school champion, he might like to help with the coaching, "We must compare notes on techniques James. And perhaps you will help coach if sufficient people join in."

Isugtag had been spending his time quietly by himself. By now, most of the expeditions members were quite accustomed to his slightly strange manners. A man of few words who simply kept to himself. He was, of course, always around to lend a helping hand, but never the one to strike up any sort of conversation. Still, in the mess, he would always pick a spot next to either Callum or McRaven... even though he never really said anything.

Quickly scanning the list of classes, Isugtag wasn't quite sure what to sign up for. Highly technical and scientific things just weren't something that interested him. He had never found any true uses for them. Out in the wild, technology usually didn't keep you alive. That and he wasn't quite sure he'd be up to the task of learning anything from scratches. Noticing Sykes' course, he decided he'd get a hold of his fellow Canadian before he started; maybe he could lend a hand. After all, some of the things they'd be using on the ice had been designed and used for ages by his own people. And then there was the Sorensen brothers climbing classes. Isugtag knew that his skills were quite solid, or at least used to be... but he hadn't done any sort of mountainous operations in a few years. A few trips in the Rockies here and there, but never in high altitude.

Already flipping his box of tobacco opened to stuff his pipe, the big Inuit can't help himself but overhear James' idea of holding boxing classes. For the first time since leaving Yukon, a gentle smile almost makes itself out on Isugtag's lips. Boxing. Now that would be interesting.

"Hmm, first aid, climbing and navigation," Kitt murmured to herself, figuring that she'd like to not be stuck maintaining the no doubt beautiful planes when she could get out and about a bit more with a little more training. She had a vision in her mind of what the land would look like she she wanted to see it first-hand and close to it.

First aid would be a good course because of the most beautiful doctor... She smiled a little at the thought and wondered how she could get any time to talk with him. Oh well, actually knowing what to do if someone got injured was more important. She just hoped she could focus.

Aerial navigation was an important one. She certainly didn't want to fail and get everyone lost. Fuel would be a valuable resource. They couldn't just go and buy some more.

SS Gabrielle – Approx 90 miles off the US Eastern Seaboard
22:30 (EST) – Tuesday 12th September 1933
Course: 180°
Speed: 11 knots
Position: N34°42’30” W074°00’
Mapquest Map Link

The first full day aboard the SS Gabrielle is a pleasant affair, the ship continues to cruise steadily south through relatively calm North Atlantic waters, and though the day is constantly overcast the threatened rain never occurs. As per tradition the SS Gabrielle has it’s crew organised into three four-hour watches: the four o’clock watch is lead by First Officer Turlow, the eight o’clock watch by Third Officer Quigley and the twelve o’clock watch by Second Officer Ballard. Fourth Officer Driscoll stands in whenever required by the more senior officers. On each watch there is one quartermaster at the helm and three able-seamen acting as lookouts or performing other deck duties. The Bosun (boatswain) acts as a foreman of the deck crew, while Captain Vredenburg is available around the clock, if required.

Morning:

The morning classes are all well attended by enthusiastic expedition members packing into the ship’s messes. All of the classes cover only a brief background for today, practice will occur later in the week.

Peter Sykes and Isugtag give an overview of the correct use of the outdoor clothing, each explorer has 82 separate items of clothing, each with it’s own specific use – and that’s counting pairs of socks, gloves and mitts as one item not two! Grey Wolf’s traditional and ancient perspective on polar survival contrasts well with Sykes’ more modern thinking, but both explorers understand the unique dangers of the ice only too well: wear too little, fail to correctly seal up, or become too inactive and you will freeze and die, any exposed bit of flesh will quickly be affected by frostbite. Extremities such as fingers and toes are particularly vulnerable as the body will sacrifice a digit, rather than allowing it to waste precious heat.

Conversely wearing too much, or overexert yourself causes sweating, and damp undergarments, the sweat will freeze and again frostbite will result. The correct balance of warm layered clothing with just the correct amount of exertion is essential for survival.

A similar message is being preached by Doctor Greene and Professor Graves in their lecture, both have worked in cold climes before and understand the dangers all too well, their classes will concentrate on the recognition of frostbite and hyperthermia in it’s early stages, and the best treatments. Given the altitudes that will be involved, particularly if the massive Miskatonic Mountains are to be explored, hypoxia and altitude sickness are also a danger. Again they will be teaching how to recognise their early signs. Kitt manages to spend the class sitting with Jack, while watching Richard Greene at work.

The sledding class is somewhat more light hearted, Gregor and Erik discuss the various types of dog sled, including the large Nansen freight sleds and lighter airplane sleds that are being used by the Starkweather-Moore expedition. Later in the voyage they will ‘introduce’ their students to the dogs, and train them to correct assemble a dog-team. They will also cover typical load-outs for overland expeditions by dog-sled teams.

Afternoon:

There is no formal lunch held on board, instead plates of sandwiches are available in both messes between.

The afternoon courses are similarly popular, Moore’s lecture on Antarctic Exploration deals with the history of prior expeditions, the methods they used and the routes that they used. Olof and Alfred Gilmore explain the basics of Pobodie’s magnificent drilling machinery and Mills begins with a two hour overview of the various electrical and mechanical systems used by the expedition’s state-of-the-art aeroplanes.

Callum and the Sorensen Brothers begin their climbing class by describing the different stages of a mountain climb as the climber move from the foothills to the summit. Later in the voyage they will train the correct techniques, and rope use. The Sorensens also plan to use the midship’s superstructure for some practical climbing training later.

There is some free time for everybody during the afternoon then the evening courses are held at six o’clock, before the evening meals at eight.

Mr Starkweather holds his afternoon tea in the officer’s mess, and he invites James, Prof Graves, Kitt, Sean, Richard Greene and Jack (sorry Jack) to attend, amongst others. It is a stereotypically English affair with plenty of blustering and fine china in evidence. Starkweather is especially keen to learn how many have joined the boxing class, and to discuss other possible sporting events with Greene. Though the young doctor humours the Englishman, he seems more intent on getting to know Kitt better.

“Jack, Jack! I hope you’ll be giving some coverage to the tournament old chap, I take it you’re experienced with sports reporting. You must sort it out with Doctor Greene, I’m sure you two will get along like a house on fire. You share the same cabin don’t you?”


Evening:

Griffith’s Antarctic Geology class is largely theoretical, after all a better understanding of such matters is the main purpose of both this expedition, and the ill-fated one that preceded it. None-the-less the Professor knows his stuff and offers a wealth of information about the southern continent, both theory and fact. Both Douglas Halperin’s Aerial Navigation lecture, and Louis Laroche’s basic wireless operation begin by covering the unique difficulties that the Antarctic continent poses, particularly the effects severe cold, and of magnetic and electrical storms.

James’ boxing class is very popular, even if some choose to watch rather than participate. With the help of a typically enthusiastic Starkweather he spends the first day splitting the various participants according to their weight, and then teaching the basics of stance, jabs and blocks.

At eight o’clock the evening meal is held in each mess, and the rest of the evening is free time for everyone. Sykes and Greene organise a card game in the crew mess, while the various Norwegian expedition members appear to be holding a ‘Scandinavian Sing-Song’ in the corner.

Most of the conversation is about Greene’s sporting events, the first of which will be a ten lap race around the ship, to be held the on Saturday.

Raiko wrote: “Jack, Jack! I hope you’ll be giving some coverage to the tournament old chap, I take it you’re experienced with sports reporting. You must sort it out with Doctor Greene, I’m sure you two will get along like a house on fire. You share the same cabin don’t you?”

"Yes, yes," Jack says as a response to all of the above, smiling, though it's more a tired smile than one of genuine amusement. The day had already been a bit ... taxing, and having to schmooze with Starkweather wasn't helping matters. And that madman Greene! It wasn't so much that he was such a bad fellow, even as a cabin mate. He was too full of vim and vigor for Jack's taste regardless, but first boxing and now racing? On a ship? The man's gone around the bend, Jack thinks, sighing to himself.

He would have to work on his sports cliches, Jack thinks. It'd been a while since he'd had to try to inject some kind of metaphysical meaning out of such banality as one man whacking another on the side of the head till one or both of them lost consciousness or otherwise gave in. He'd seen enough people blown apart in the war to be revulsed at the thought of two people beating each other up voluntarily for amusement--theirs or the crowd's.

SS Gabrielle – Off the US Eastern Seaboard
08:00am (EST) – Wednesday 13th September 1933
Course: 180°
Speed: 11 knots
Position N32°58’ W074°00’
Google Maps Link

The night passes peacefully and the Gabrielle continues to cruise steadily South off the East Coast of the US, she is now about three days from Cuba and the Caribbean Sea. It is raining a little now and the winds are stronger, but the sea still isn’t very rough so nobody seems unduly concerned about the weather.

Once again the chalkboards in both messes have been marked up with details of the day. Tonight will also be the first of Starkweather's live radio broadcasts from the Gabrielle.

Wednesday 13th September 1933
Latitude: N 33° 10’
Longitude W 74° 00’
Sunrise: 05:38
Sunset: 18:04
Todays Weather: Overcast, light rain
Wind Speed: 20-25 mph

Morning:
Sykes & Amaruq – Clothes and Equipment – Officer’s Mess
Greene & Graves – Antarctic First-Aid – Expedition Lab
Albemarle – Antarctic Weather – Crew’s Mess
Pulaski & Frodesen – Sledding – Aftcastle

Afternoon:
G & N Sorensen & MacDonald– Technical Climbing – Crew’s Mess
Miles – Aeroplane Maintenance – #2 Tweendeck Hold
Gilmore & Eriksson – The Pabodie Ice-Drill Operation – #1 Tweendeck Hold
Moore – Antarctic Exploration – Officer’s Mess

Evening:
Griffith – Antarctic Geology – Officer’s Mess
Halperin – Aerial Navigation – Expediton Lab
Laroche – Basic Wireless Operation – Ship’s Radio Room
Seymour – Boxing – Crew’s Mess

Olof checks up today's rooster and decides to sign up for the sledding lecture. It seems to be fun and Olof though never having own a dog is fond of the canine species. He also continues with the drill lessons in the afternoon. He decides to take the evening off.

Kitt decides to stick with what she'd chosen the day before.

After checking todays lessons, Callum decides to do the same as yesterday...

Jack makes plans to continue doing today what he did yesterday as far as classes are concerned.

Graves also continues to go to the same lectures.

SS Gabrielle
14th & 15th September, 1925

The rain showers come and go throughout most of the day on the fourteenth

As the Gabrielle cruises southwards everybody settles into the ship’s routine.

The crew are everywhere, mixing and mingling with the explorers whenever they are off-duty. They are a social bunch, though most have little in the way of education. Despite their good nature, however, it is impossible to hide the fact that explorers are very much intruders their world. Some of the crew are garrulous, but others watch quietly and make no friendly gestures. There is even, at times, a strange sense of unease in the air, as if the explorers are objects of suspicion or fear.

In contrast to the crew, the captain and the ship’s officers are quite friendly in a professional way. First Officer Turlow is in charge of the expedition’s affairs and deals with most enquiries that members of the expedition team make.

On the morning of the fourteenth Turlow calls for a lifeboat drill, the morning classes are interrupted and all expedition members and non-essential crew members have to assemble on the Gabrielle’s Boat-Deck and don life-jackets. Officer Turlow looks on, glancing at a stop watch and occasionally shaking his head. Once everyone is accounted for Turlow laughs, then announces that that was the very worst effort that he has ever witnessed. Another drill will be held in a few days.

The light rain continues throughout most of the fourteenth, but as the sun slips below the horizon that evening, the clouds have finally broken. The wind drops and that night is clear and star lit.

The fifteenth is hot and sunny with very few clouds visible. The Gabrielle is south of Florida now and passes through the Bahamas during the day. The stewards are busy throughout the day supplying refreshments to all of the classes. Gone are the sudden cold squalls of the north Atlantic; now the air is heavy with moisture, warm and oppressive, and the rain when it comes every couple of days is soft and clean. All in all, it is an idyllic life. The only ones who do not seem to appreciate it are the dogs. At least once an hour they moan and howl loudly. Their cries echo weirdly throughout the ship, seeming lost and very sad. Late during the night of the fifteenth the Gabrielle turns South-East as she begins to sail around Cuba.

SS Gabrielle – East of Guantanamo Bay, Cuba
08:00am (EST) – Saturday 16th September 1933
Course: 180°, turning to starboard.
Speed: 11 knots
Position N19°51’ W074°00’
Google Map Link

As the explorers assemble in the two messes for breakfast on the sixteenth the Gabrielle is beginning a turn to the South West, Guantanamo Bay is off the starboard side and the thick green palmfronded jungle slides by in silence beyond the rocks. A U. S. destroyer the USS Du Pont salutes from a distance, she is just beginning a tour patroling off the Cuban coast. Gabrielle responds with a triple blast of her steam whistle. Breakfast is interrupted by Robert Macllvaine the radio operator announcing that Acacia Lexington’s SS Tallahassee has arrived in Panama. The news is received by Mister Starkweather in angry silence.

Looking over at Starkweather, Jack can't help but chuckle. He hoped his disdain for Starkweather wasn't as obvious to everyone as he suspected it was, but what was the windbag going to do at this point anyway? Throw Jack overboard? Well, at least he knew where the lifeboats were now. And a vacation in the tropics didn't sound half bad right about now, either. Maybe he and ...

Jack's thoughts snap back to the job at hand. There were classes to attend, reports to file with the paper. This could all get deadly serious in a very short time.

The classes had been very interesting and the turn of the weather was wonderful. It felt strange to Olof that they now were going towards colder climes. He was well aware of the nature of the both poles, but it felt strange anyway. Best enjoy the weather as long as it lasted. Some sort of mixed drink would be nice now and a lounge chair and some tanning lotion...

SS Gabrielle – Colón, Panama
08:00am (EST) – Tuesday 19th September 1933
Course: n/a.
Speed: At Anchor
Position N09°20’ W079°54’ (approx, will correct later)
Google Map Link (will update later)

The expedition leader’s black mood lasts the rest of the morning, but by mid afternoon he is back to his usual self, Acacia Lexington forgotten for now. That evening he and Moore make the first scheduled ‘broadcast to the world.’ Of course the professor has little to say at this early stage of the expedition, preferring to leave most of the talking to the boisterous English explorer. The broadcast is typical Starkweather stuff, full of jolly bluster and enthusiasm, but with little real substance. Little has happened so far since departure, but nonetheless Starkweather manages to speak most enthusiastically about it for nearly twenty minutes.

The broadcast is the main topic of conversation that night in the Crew’s Mess, as various explorers ham up Starkweather’s performance, to much laughter.

The SS Gabrielle spends three days and nights crossing the Caribbean Sea. Swirls of clouds mottle the heavens, dropping brief but frequent rain. Sunrises and sunsets are bursts and explosions of vaporous gold, and hints of lilies and distant spice hang in the air, beneath the ever-present tang of the sea. The air is heavy with moisture, warm and oppressive, and the rain when it comes is soft and clean.

As the explorers rise from their beds on the morning of the 19th of September the Gabrielle sits at anchor inside the huge breakwaters of the port city of Colón, Panama. Founded in 1850 as one end of the Panama Railroad, the city’s population has risen to over 30,000 since the canal opened in 1914.

The ship will wait inside the breakwater for the rest of the day, while the crew make routine inspections of the hull and engines. Tomorrow morning local pilots will board to guide the Gabrielle through the Canal and into the Pacific Ocean.

A number of small boats from the port have come out to greet the famous explorers’ ship, and anyone who doesn’t wish to spend the day aboard can visit Colón. Moore gives everyone a day off from the lessons, but there is plenty of time for extra practise for those who stay aboard. Meanwhile those heading into Colón can either return to the Gabrielle in the evening, or take the oportunity to travel onto Panama City by the Panama Railway, meeting the ship at that end of the canal.

[OOC: I had trouble with the internet at work at lunchtime, so I’ll update the Lat/Long and Google Map link from home later. I’ll also hopefully add a photo or two.]

Olof is very eager to set foot in Central America and is also interested in taking the train to the end of the Panama Canal. "I'm beginning to suspect that my feet will get confused when they meet stable ground again, but I'm excited to see such an impressive work of engineering" he says to Sykes when they discuss the imminent landing.

A chance to disembark sounded like a good idea to Jack. It wasn't that he was already bored of sea travel, but there would be few opportunities for recreation--or warmth--in the upcoming days and weeks.

Visiting the different ports of call is one of the things that James loves about cruising and, although this isn't a cruise, he thinks a train ride to Panama City would have been a welcome break but he does not want to miss the opportunity to sail through the Panama Canal so decides to just do a short visit to the Port of Colón instead.

Callum has been looking forward to going through the Panama Canal, so decides to stay with the ship, rather than going into town with the others.

Mcraven is also keen to see the Canal so decides on a quick visit with a few of the other pilots to stretch their legs and see a few of the sights.

Never one to miss the chance to see a new culture Graves will disembark in Panama with the others.

On the Gabrielle:
Tuesday 19th September 1933

The day passes by idyllically for those aboard. In years gone by ships used to from here for calmer waters, such is the ferocity of this section of the Caribbean coastline, but the massive breakwaters have put an end to that, and the Gabrielle sits at anchor in calm clear waters.

The white buildings of Colón line the small island of Manzanillo seem to rise magically from the sea, but the port looks small and sleepy at the edge of the lush green jungle. Fishing boats float in the waters of the bay, and the grim guns and walls of the forts on either side seem out of place.

There is a brief torrential downpour late in the afternoon, causing all the explorers out on deck to scramble inside, but the rain lasts for only twenty minutes, and by evening the skies have cleared again.

Colón, Panama:
Tuesday 19th September 1933


Panoramic View of Colón, taken in 1913 (click to zoom in)


The Hotel Washington

The sightseers travel ashore aboard small launches, landing among the wharfs and freight houses that line the shore of Colón. Established in 1850 Colón is the Atlantic terminus of the Panama Railroad, built to reduce travel times between the US East coast and newly acquired territories in California during the gold rush. During the construction of the railroad, and throughout the rest of the gold rush Colón was every bit as prosperous and deadly as any Wild West frontier town.

The port declined as the California gold rush came to an end and US overland railroads took away much of it’s trade, but still the need remained for a faster route for shipping between the two great oceans. When construction of the great canal eventually began the route followed the railroad, and Colón became prosperous again, providing the main Atlantic side base for the canal builders.

Sanitation was improved, and the muddy roads paved, even the notorious and seedy ‘Bottle Alley’ behind Front Street, where many a prospector had met his end during the gold rush days. The breakwaters calmed the bay, and the railroad itself upgraded to carry the heavy rolling stock required to support the canal construction.

Successive fires have gutted many of Colón’s original wooden buildings, and so much of the city is now built with concrete, including the largest building The Washington Hotel, owned by the Railroad & Canal Company, and in turn by the US government.

The modern port of Colón is still a seedy place, as ports are around the world, but it is now at least safe for tourists to walk along Front Street or Bottle Alley without fear of a knife in the back.

[OOC: Those taking the train to Panama City can stay at the Washington Hotel overnight, before boarding a morning train at the terminus on Front Street. Those returning to the Gabrielle can take a launch back shortly before dark.]


Two old pictures of Front Street, Colón

SS Gabrielle
Wednesday 20th September 1933

On the morning of the 20th the Canal pilot is brought aboard in a small customs launch flying the American flag. The pilot, a tall black-skinned Jamaican in his thirties named Quentin, inspects the ships documents and proceeds to the bridge, where he remains throughout the crossing.

Passing through the Gatun Locks takes almost an hour. The ship’s engines idle, and off-duty crewmen lounge on the rail, watching as the gargantuan water gates approach. There are two sets of these, each set a hundred fifty feet wide, looming seventy feet above the water. A long wharf thrusts out between them hundreds of feet into the channel, decorated along its length with rails and overhead power lines for the squat electric “mule engines” used to pull vessels through the locks. Small stout tugs urge the ship into the gaping steel mouth, then the gates close, and there are shouts from the crew; lines are tossed to men on the pier.

Great tow cables are secured to a squat, powerful-looking black locomotive waiting to one side of the deep concrete channel. When the inner gates open and the water of the lake swirls by, the locomotive thrums and roars and surges forward along steep crooked tracks, holding Gabrielle steady against the current and drawing her along. When the gates close behind, the engine rests, only to surge forward again when the water has risen and the next set of doors opens.

It takes fifteen minutes to raise the ship thirty feet above the level of the sea, before she can slide forward a thousand feet into the next basin of the lock. The doors behind her close, and the water rises again. The process is repeated three times.

Afterwards the ship is released with a whistle into Lake Gatun. The Gabrielle makes slow, but measured progress follows through the lake’s still waters, surrounded by thick jungles, passing other ocean-going giants headed for the Atlantic. Brightly coloured birds flash in the dense foliage, alligators sun themselves in great numbers on the shore, and the heavy sweet smell of decaying plants is strong in the fitful breeze. Signs of man are few: here the thin tall tower of a radio transmitter, there the fort-like clearing of the Canal Zone Penitentiary.

At last the Culebra Cut comes into view, a huge deep slice carved through the surrounding hills. These hills mark the continental divide. The rough-cut rocky walls ghost past for miles, festooned with vines and clinging shrubs, seemingly inches away on either side.

As the edge of the Cut nears, the ship enters another set of locks. This time she descends once, crosses Miraflores lake, only a mile end to end, and is lowered again through the final two locks toward the sea. Roads and houses are visible in increasing numbers. Pleasure craft dot the edges of the expanse of water, and black haired children wave at the Gabrielle as
she passes. The jungle is cut back, replaced by stretches of green open lawn and careful swaths of brilliant flowers. When the ship moves at last out of the channel and slips into Balboa Bay, investigators on the upper decks catch glimpses of the curve of Panama City to the south and the dark restless expanse of the Pacific beyond.


Gabrielle anchors for the night in Balboa Bay. The lights of the military reservation and the town beyond glimmer brightly over the water, red tiled roofs surrounded by careful lawns and trees. Panama City is much larger than Colon.

Small ferry craft come alongside during the evening, with fresh fruit and fresh water, and a few luxuries for sale. Those who wish can purchase souvenirs, cigars, candy, clothing and a few other items from the grinning locals.

[OOC: I’ll post tonight to describe the railway journey. I’ll also update this post with some period pictures of the canal. Those who chose not to take the train can venture into Panama City aboard the local boats if they like. Everyone must be back aboard the Gabrielle tonight. Some fresh perishable food has been ordered and will be loaded aboard the Gabrielle in the morning of the 21st. Then it’s off across the Pacific, next stop Melbourne ]

Olof had never expected the city of Colòn to be so pitoresque. The Hotel Washington is a very impressive building and the view of the city from the SS Gabrielle is just breathtaking.

James buys a couple of souvenirs then goes over to Panama. He is interested to read how the locks were constructed and some brief history of Panama and then heads back over to the ship.

SS Gabrielle – The Pacific Ocean
21st September, 1933
[OOC: I’ll make sure that I get the maps and sunrise/sunset times updated tonight]


The following morning, a cargo barge brings quantities of fresh tropical fruits aboard to supplement the vessel’s larder. These are lowered into the #4 hold.

As soon as the transfer of food is complete the ship begins to steam south into the Pacific Ocean. By noon there is no sign of land.


Morning – Moderate Gales – Beaufort 8

Hours after the Gabrielle pushes into the Pacific the weather begins to turn. The sea becomes rough and choppy beneath swirls of changing cloud. The wind gusts and changes quadrants uneasily every hour. It does not rain, but the threat hangs overhead, as though a storm might suddenly rise up out of nowhere. The ship ploughs ahead in the freshening foamy sea at a steady eleven knots. Every few seconds the bow slams into a new wave, sending a distant thrum through the hull and tossing spray high into the air. The motion of the deck is much stronger than before, and acquires a distinct pitching motion that sends scientists with weak stomachs, like Professor Albemarle, running for the lee rail. Kitt is particularly ill, but by mid-afternoon as the weather turns particularly bad she is joined by Sean, Maurice and Olof. Others including James, Graves and McRaven appear totally at ease in the rough seas.(see OOC thread)

The dogs redouble their cries. They do not like the rougher seas. Classes continue as before, but the ship’s tossing takes away much of the holiday atmosphere. Anyone spending time outside is quickly soaked to the skin by warm salt spray as the average wave height rises above twenty feet, and lessons that were previously offered on the foredeck now move into one of the lounges. Doctor Greene’s sporting events are cancelled for now, apart from James’ boxing class.


Morning – Strong Gales – Beaufort 9

The list of courses marked on the blackboards has changed now as well:

Thursday 21st September 1933
Latitude: I’ll update this later
Longitude: I’ll update this later
Sunrise: I’ll update this later
Sunset: I’ll update this later
Todays Weather: Mod-Strong Gales, Possible Storm
Wind Speed: 40-60 mph

Morning:
Sykes – Expedition Camp Equipment – Officer’s Mess
Albemarle – Antarctic Weather – Crew’s Mess (cancelled due to sickness)
Pulaski & Frodesen – Sledding – Crew’s Mess

Afternoon:
Miles – Aeroplane Maintenance – #2 Tweendeck Hold
Gilmore & Eriksson – The Pabodie Ice-Drill Operation – #1 Tweendeck Hold
McPearson – Photography – Officer’s Mess (cancelled due to sickness)

Evening:
G & N Sorensen – Snow Gear, Boots & Skis – Officer’s Mess
Laroche – Morse Code– Ship’s Radio Room
Seymour – Boxing – Crew’s Mess

Olof participates in the sledding lesson, but begins to feel weak during lunch. He eats but discovers that he can not retain anything eaten as he joins the unfortunate ones who has been cursed by sea sickness. Olof can not help but wonder if some sort of pacific sea god has became cross with the ship, cursing them with bad weather for not giving proper homeage.

Standing up after breakfast, Callum steadies himself for a moment, and just about manages to keep the contents of his stomach in his stomach. Quickly glancing at the lessons on the blackboard, he sees that there have been one or two changes......

Scanning the list he decides to go for Sykes' Expedition Camp Equipment course in the morning. Then Nils and Gunnars Snow Gear course in the evening. Underneath the 'Afternoon' heading he pencils in 'Climbing Techniques Theory (provided there are no objections) - with C. McDonald'.

He then goes to check with Moore to make sure he has no problems with this. "Its just to fill the gap left by McPearson's sea sickness" he explains.

James happily eats a full breakfast but makes sure he pops up onto deck to get fresh air every now & again to help keep his sea legs. He participates in the Sledding class in the morning and after a light lunch goes to see where & if Callum's Climbing technique theory class is running

In the evening James decides that due to the swell and movement of the ship that the boxing class will concentrate on balance and defence as he doesn't want to risk a mis-placed punch whilst the participants might not be feeling their best.

Graves enjoys a full English fried breakfast with a good cigar and a glass of orange juice but makes sure he eats it a good distance from his more queezy companions.

After checking the list of activities he decides to continue with the courses he had been studying. Initially he felt he had been making excellent progress in them but the last few lessons confused him somewhat.

For McRaven, the trip ashore had been a welcome relief from the tedium of life on board. It was all to brief, and before long they were on the move again.

When the ship hit heavy seas, William felt strangely unmoved by the experience. He put it down to his trip across the channel to france back in the war...then again it could be luck.

Sports was cancelled, so was any maintenance of the aircraft...way too dangerous. Other activities seemed difficult given the weather, but the pilot decided to take up the radio course. It would help pass the time and keep clear of his fellows who were not doing so well, and would not appreciate the sight of him tucking the bacon sandwhich and black coffee that was passing for breakfast.

Jack was surprised that he hadn't become ill--yet--as so many of the others around him had. It wasn't that he was such an adroit sailor; he knew that was ludicrous. So he just counted his blessings and hoped for the best in future days.

Seeing as how the Antarctic weather class was canceled, Jack decides to attend the camp equipment class in the morning. In the afternoon, he planned to take in a session on the drill. To hear the way some of his fellows talked of it, the drill was the eighth wonder of the modern world, and though Jack had no serious mechanical aptitude or interest, it would still be worth a look.

He told himself it would be a good idea to go check on Kitt, who seemed to be having a time of it. He would look to see where Dr. Greene was first, though. No sense in making an ass of himself--any more than usual, anyway.

Upon waking in the morning Sean felt much better. He now understood he was not just yet ready to be a sailor. however with a better grip on his bearings he felt like 100 bucks.

Relieved to no longer be attached to his bed, he looked over the schedule of events and figured it might also help to possibly teach others how to use a Camera and how to properly shoot a photo.

He looked at the date and their location and was disappointed he missed the lovely sights of Panama, aswell as the oppurtunity to snap some really good photos. He thought to go out and see the Sea abroad, but after strong warnings from others of getting a "shower" he decided against.

Returning to the list once more he decides that after something to eat, he will go learn at the Camp Equipment class.

He thinks to himself it'd best to distance himself from the sick. He would find it dreadul to miss the upcoming sights of Melbourne, something he is determined to avoid.

( Sorry for the long drought without a post )

When Jack checks on how Kitt is doing he finds that Greene isn’t around. The young doctor had spent some time with her, but as the weather deteriorated further his services were in too much demand.

Moore readily accepts Callum offer to run a Climbing Theory class, "The earlier climbing course was so popular that I’m sure lots of the team will be keen to join you. We’re privileged to have so many expert mountaineers the expedition."

"I’m sure that Sean wouldn’t object to you continuing your classes even when he feels a little better. Unless of course you were planning on joining the photography class yourself."


SS Gabrielle - Approaching the Equator
Noon (GMT-6) - Saturday 24th September, 1933
Speed: 11 knots
Course: 227°
Position: 01°08′55″N, 085°55′31″W
Sunrise 05:38
Sunset 17:45

The severe gales last for two full days, though the threatened storm never materialises. Several expedition members spend the majority of the first three days on the Pacific feeling very ill, Kitt, Professor Albemarle and Maurice get the worst of it. Below decks the sled dogs never seem to stop howling for a moment throughout the rough weather.

Fortunately by noon on the 24th, the gusts of winds lessen and then disappear, and the surface of the ocean smooths to a near calm.

[OOC:I've updated the Google Earth & Google Map files, here are the links:]

Google Map Link
Google Earth File

SS Gabrielle - Approaching the Equator
15:00 (GMT-6) - Saturday 24th September, 1933
Speed: 11 knots
Course: 227°
Position: 00°46'28"N, 086°19'36"W

The return of fair weather raises the explorers' spirits, but the Gabrielle's crew does not seem to share the mood. off-duty sailors watch the scientists with impassive faces, or huddle in corners conversing in low tones before moving elsewhere.

More ominously some of the explorers notice groups of crewmen are carrying covered parcels about the ship, they seem to be deliberately trying to avoid the explorers.

As he is walking on deck Olof notices how the crew begin to act strange at least from the engineer's view. Why are they carrying around parcels? Is there someone's birthday? Olof mentions this to the other explorers when he gets an opportunity and asks what theories they have about the matter.

"Well, it is a little odd, Olof," Jack says in reply. "I suppose, anyway. Really, though, I know so little about ships that I can't say for certain what is normal. The last time I was on a ship was when I was coming back from the war, and I had ... other things on my mind than how the crew behaved."

Callum overhears Olof talking about the crew's behaviour, and raises an eyebrow in suprise. But he is too engrossed in preparing his paperwork for the Climbing class, and says nothing about it right now....

SS Gabrielle
21:15 (GMT-6) – Saturday 24th September, 1933

The SS Gabrielle continues to cruise at a steady eleven knots through the now calm waters of the Pacific, as the sun sets on the 24th.

Suddenly about three hours after darkness has fallen, the Gabrielle's engines go silent. A moment later the ship's horn blasts loudly three times.

Scientist and explorers emerge from cabins and messes to find out what is happening.

"What is this about?" Olof asks. He is baffled by the strange behaviour of the crew and now... Why does the SS Gabrielle stop?

James heads up onto deck to get a good spot to view what is going on.

"Good Lord, what now?" Jack mutters to himself as he follows the crowd to the deck.

SS Gabrielle - Out on deck.

As the explorers arrive out on deck they find that the Gabrielle's external spotlights are all trained on the ship's bow. There, brilliantly lit in the glare of the lamps, a figure appears in a swirl of water and strides toward the bridge.

The man is elaborately costumed in a fanciful frogged coat and lots of ribbons and gold and silver leaf, his long green wig pulled back in an ancient-looking tarred braid.

As he advances towards the bridge the man turns to one of the sailors, "Ho, Shellback! Permission to come aboard, in His Majesty's name?"

Olof smiles. He remembers reading about this in an a book by some explorer. This is not something sinister at all.

Sean looks on in confusion. After noticing the strange behavior of the crew, he wonders if they tie together. He plans to catch up with one of the others and talk over what could be going on with the crew.

SS Gabrielle - Out on deck.

Raiko wrote: As he advances towards the bridge the man turns to one of the sailors, "Ho, Shellback! Permission to come aboard, in His Majesty's name?"

The sailor grins and shouts, "Why, 'tis Davy Jones himself! Welcome aboard, Sir!"

"Thank you. Where may I find your captain?"

The sailor points up towards the bridge, "Yonder, Sir. He awaits your pleasure."

Davy Jones strides forcefully towards the bridge. He is clutching a battered leather folio to his chest, as he walks he looks neither left nor right as he walks, his eyes are set on the bridge the whole the whole time. At one stage during his journey a rather confused looking Ralph DeWitt finds himself stood in the way, Jones hardly pauses but bellows in a stentorian voice, “You there! Make way for the King’s Messenger!”

On the bridge, Davy Jones—and the crowd of onlookers who follow in his wake—are met by Captain Vredenburgh and the Officer of the Watch, Second Officer Ballard.

The captain does not look at all surprised and a ritual dialogue takes place, "Greetings, Davy Jones."

"My congratulations to you, Captain. Some few years since I saw you."

Vredenburgh nods, "Yes, it was aboard the SS Selandia."

Davy Jones takes a document from the portfolio, "I have a summons to you from His Majesty, Neptunus Rex."

"I will be glad to receive it."

With a pantomime flourish Jones holds up the scroll and reads it aloud: "Ahem. SS Gabrielle on entering the domain of His Majesty, Neptunus Rex, take notice. It having come to our attention that various landlubbers are present in your vessel, all undoubtedly guilty of heinous offenses against our laws, I therefore command that you prepare to receive our Royal Party, that our Court may sit in judgment. The following lubbers will present themselves at noon tomorrow:"

"Pierce Albemarle,
Isugtag Amaruq,
Morehouse Bryce,
Timothy Cartier,
Maurice Cole,
Ralph DeWitt,
Olof Eriksson,
Richard Greene,
Alan Huston,
Sean McPhearson,
William McRaven,
Douglas Orgelfinger,
Gunnar Sorensen,
Nils Sorensen,
Jack Wilson and
Samuel Winslow..."

"...A terrible fate awaits any who might seek to evade His Majesty’s judgment!" Davy Jones hands summonses to Captain Vredenburgh...

Olof sniggers. He knows about Neptune, but who is this Davy Jones character? He has heard the expression Davy Jones' Locker, but has never understood where it comes from or what it means. The engineer makes a mental note of asking some of the Americans, perhaps they know. It seems to be an Anglo-American thing.

Well, this is pure Looney Tunes, Jack groans to himself.

Sean listens to the dialogue and can only think to himself...

What manner of a joke is this? Davy Jones, Neptunus? What the...

He looks around to see if he can read the expression of the others, perhaps he wasn't made aware of some sort of act put together to entertain.

Hearing Jacks groan, Callum leans over and says in a low voice "Just go along with it and have some fun. Sailors are very serious about maritime traditions and rituals, so there really is nothing to worry about."

Captain Vredenburg takes the package from Davy Jones and replies, "Please assure his Majesty these persons will attend his Court."

"Thank you, Sir. His Majesty would be pleased if your vessel be hove to on the Line at eleven thirty tomorrow, Sir, to receive him aboard."

"Certainly, Davy Jones."

"I will await your pleasure tomorrow, sir, and will see you when I return with my Royal Master, Neptunus Rex. Good night, Sir!"

Davy Jones and the captain bow to each other, then the messenger exits the bridge and makes his way back forward, once again admonishing any who cross his path.

Once he reaches the Gabrielle's bow Davy Jones vanishes once more.

Captain Vredenburgh looks through the contents of Davy Jones’ package, then hands it off to Mister Turlow. “Deliver these summonses to the lubbers for whom they are intended,” he commands, “and inform the crew that there will be a general assembly on the foredeck tomorrow morning.”

The floodlights illuminating the ships foredeck are extinguished and the Gabrielle's crew prepare to resume the journey south as though nothing had occured.

Olof is curious of what is going to happen next. It seems that they finally will have some fun during this trip. With the strange happenings in land and the hurried departure it's nice to be able to enjoy oneself again.

Kitt just smiles, clutching at her belly and feeling more then a little nauseas. This was more like it. Entertainment for all.

Callum says goodnight to everyone, and goes back to his room for a night cap. Then he settles down, and goes to sleep....

As the SS Gabrielle gets underway once more Mister Turlow hands a summons to any lubbers present on the bridge. He then leaves to do the same throughout the ship; as the majority of the crew and passengers are present on either the bridge or the deck, within a few minutes each 'lubber' has received their summons to King Neptunus Rex's court.

The summonses, folded up in the form of a subpoena, accuse each lubber of various amusing "crimes." Examples include such offences as "daring to operate flying vehicles over my seas without license," "not partaking of sufficient social lubricant in mixed company," and "wearing a tie while engaged in honest work."


Neptunus Rex Summons

SS Gabrielle - On the Equator - Latitude 0° Longitude 87° 21' 33"
09:30 (GMT-6) – Sunday 25th September, 1933

During breakfast the following morning the ship those crew members already initiated as "shellbacks" have begun to erect a makeshift court for the King on the afterdeck beside the spare rudder and the loading raft; other shrouded structures hulk nearby, by nine o'clock the court is complete.

At nine thirty the Gabrielle reaches the Equator, and the navigator reports to Captain Vredenburg that the ship is “on the Line.”

Davy Jones appears again and reports to the captain that Neptunus Rex and Party have been sighted ahead. The Flag of Neptune. bearing a trident, is raised when Neptune and his Court appear on deck by the fo’c’s’le. “Shellbacks” gather to watch the festivities.

Neptune and his Court proceed slowly aft, with much mock courtesy and court procedure. The long-bearded King Neptune himself is encrusted with barnacles, wears a crown, and carries a trident. Upon meeting Davy Jones, Neptune booms forth with, "Well, well, what a fine ship and what a cargo of landlubbers!"

A ship’s officer salutes and reports with much dignity that the captain awaits the Royal Party.


[OOC: I've included a blank summons as an attachment, I'll post it onto imageshack instead from home tonight (EDIT: done now).
I've decided to split the Court / ceremony into two posts rather than one, to give a chance for anyone who wishes to reply]

Olof who definitely is a landlubber plays with the charade, musing. Who had known that sailors where fond of such pranks? He is very impressed by the whole performance. He can't help but wonder if Starkweather has contributed to the whole act, perhaps as a way to boost the expedition's moral even more?

Graveskeeps out of the way, enjoying the bemused faces of those who are being initiated.

McRaven shrugged and smiled as he made his way to be initiated. Flying over Neptunes oceans? Guilty as charged!

After helping the crew erect the 'courtroom', Callum gets himself a drink and sits back to enjoy the spectacle.

The entire ordeal has Sean at a loss for words, he's not sure if this is all for real in some way or mere poppycock.

Crossing the Line Ceremony – SS Gabrielle
09:35 (GMT-6) – Sunday 25th September, 1933

Stepping forwards to welcome the king and his court Captain Vredenburgh says, "A sailor’s welcome to you, Neptunus Rex; it is a great pleasure to have you with us."

To which Neptune replies, "The pleasure is mine, Sir. Allow me to present Royal Navigator Shellback who will relieve you. I am glad to be with you again, Captain, and have prepared for a busy day in order to make your landlubbers fit subjects of my great sea domain."

Vredenburgh indicates three of his crewmembers who have been rounded up and brought before the court, "May I invite your attention to the fact that I have several young officers and members of the crew aboard who have not been in the merchant marine long enough to have had an opportunity to visit your domain and become shellbacks. I beg you to be as lenient with them as possible."

Neptune laughs, "Ah! Captain, I will be as severe as I can—as severe as I can!"

The captain then introduces officers and passengers who have crossed the Line before. These persons converse with the immediate personal staff of Neptune for a minute or so

The court are all more or less recognisable (depending on the quality of their comstumes) as various non-officer member of the Gabrielle's crew. As well as King Neptune and his right hand man Davy Jones, the court includes Her Highness Queen Amphitrite, dressed in seaweed and rope yams and attended by Sea Nymphs, the Royal Scribe, the evil-looking Royal Barbers, the equally villainous Royal Doctor , the Royal Baby (actually a poorly disguised Edgar Cawley, the fattest member of the crew, normally found in the engine room), the Royal Navigator, Neptune’s Officer of the Day, the Judge, two Attorneys, the Devil with a wicked looking trident, and the Bears whose job it is to round up the lubbers and generally manhandle them.

Once the introductions have been made Captain Vredenburgh continues the ritual, "Neptune, I turn over my command to you for such time as you wish."

"Very well, Captain, thank you. Royal Navigator, proceed to the bridge and direct the ship to sail on the course assigned."

The Royal Party is escorted to the throne, and ascends. After bestowing awards on a few distinguished veteran seafarers ("Stoker Fitzpatrick! Step forward! In recognition of your many years of service in my domain, I award you the Order of the Royal Conch! Officer of the Day, give Stoker Fitzpatrick his conch and a beer!"), Neptune gives a short speech about "this voyage to the edge of my great world-ocean."

Initiation then commences, with Fourth Officer Driscoll going first. The Bears have the duty of rounding up any shirk lug landlubbers, but there don't appear to be any shirkers on this voyage.

The actual initiation ceremonies begin with the landlubbers crawling through a canvas tunnel filled with slimy seaweed and other cold nasty things, while the tube is pummelled by the Bears with pieces of old fire hose, to emerge in the midst of the Court. One by one, the lubbers are then seated in a chair at the edge of a canvas tank of sea water. A shaved head from the barber, some pokings and proddings from the doctor, a drop in the dousing tank, and some small electric shocks received from the Devil’s pitchfork, constitute the most memorable features.

Shellback crewmembers who do not constitute part of the court, join veteran explorers including Starkweather and Moore in cheering on from the sidelines.

Afterwards, the new shellbacks receive certificates, resembling diplomas, signed by Captain Vredenburgh, King Neptunus Rex, and Davy Jones.

The party then begins, Veteran shellbacks pass around trays of cakes, cooked meat rolls, and other treats to go with copious amounts of beer. The party lasts until mid afternoon.

Olof does not show it in public, but he thinks that some of the initiation rites take things too far. Although disapproving he goes through all the rites without complaint.

"I thought I wouldn't go through these sorts of things again when I left the university!" he thinks for himself.

SS Gabrielle - Steaming South of the Equator
16:55 (GMT-6) – Sunday 25th September, 1933

The festivities continue until around three o'clock, by which time the Gabrielle is steaming at a steady eleven knots into the southern hemisphere.

The weather is much better than it has been and the Crossing the Line festivities seem to have lifted the spirits of the ship's crew. The expedition leaders Starkweather and Moore also seem cheerful, Moore chats to Jack and Olof:

"These sailors with their rituals and their superstitions, eh? At least the thing is a once in a lifetime experience you're both officially shellbacks now!"

Most of the initiated explorers seem to have taken the ritual with in relatively good humour, ranging from Richard Greene who seemed to find the whole experience quite amusing, to Nils Sorenson who endured it silently, but with a murderous look in his icy blue eyes.

*******

Later in the afternoon the tranquillity aboard the ship is shattered as Phillip Henning, one of the ship’s messboys, comes staggering up from the number four hold, coughing and retching.

"HELP!"

Henning is violently sick on the aft deck, and gasps for breath, "The...Reafer...Store...it's..."

As the young man vomits again the throat-catching reek of ammonia is suddenly powerful all over the ship.

Starkweather is nearby. Shouting to anybody within earshot he dashes for the ladder down to the hold, "WITH ME! HURRY!"

"And somebody fetch a doctor!"

Olof runs towards the cabin he is sharing with Dr. Greene. As he is running he tries to remeber where he saw the doctor last. If he meets any crew members or expedition members he tells them to help him to find Dr. Greene and tells them that one of the mess boys are injured.

Callum puts down his glass, and joins Starkweather. "What is it? Whats going on?"

He went through the ritual with a silly smile on his the whole time. He was aware that some of the others were not too happy, but this made him enjoy the experience all the more.

The the young sailor came up, vomiting...an all too natural experience to breathing in ammonia, he could feel the gag reflex himself, the stench was so strong. McRaven thought the kid had tried to say refigeration...then stores!

"Dammit, someones got to the stores..." He quickly grabs a bottle of booze and douses a napkin and ties it round his mouth...he then heads off in sprint to see what the damage is.

Jack had gone through the day's experience with something of a jaundiced look on his face. He was familiar--indeed, too familiar--with initiation ceremonies, and by the standards of the day, this was tame. He'd experienced a much more brutal hazing as part of his military life during the Great War. By that measure, these boys were only play-acting. Still, it'd all make a good story for the "lubbers" at home, who ate this sort of thing up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Suddenly, Jack hears Starkweather yelling and sees the commotion. He also manages to see Olof, presumably looking for Greene, whom Starkweather had called for. The scent of amonia suddenly became overpowering, and, as if by mystical transport, it pulls Jack back to the smells of war, the remembrance of the noxious chemicals used ... For a moment, he is there, not here. For a moment, he is frozen.

He sees others starting to scramble to heed Starkweather's call. Jack decides to follow.

"Come on, Jack!" says Kitt cheerily, for once looking more pale than green. "Let's go see what's happened now?" The spirit of adventure had rekindled her spirit more than anything. She had been finding the routine rather dull. Now this was something of interest.

Of course, she refused to entertain the thought of anything actually bad coming from this.

SS Gabrielle - Main Deck, Superstructure

Rushing into the Midships Superstructure Olof finds Richard Greene sat in the cabin that they share with Jack. Green is relaxing on his bunk with a book and a half empty drink glass from the earlier party. He looks startled as Olof burst in, as neither the smell nor the shouting have reached the cabin area yet.

"What's wrong Olof?"


SS Gabrielle - Number 4 Tween Deck Hold

Starkweather leads the way down into hold, like McRaven he covers his mouth and nose with a makeshift mask. The party heading down into the hold are joined by several off-duty crewmembers, and also by the pilots Dougas Halperin and Ralph Dewitt.

The smell of the ammonia is much stronger down in the hold, and it's very dark, lit only by only a narrow beam of sunlight streaming in through the open hatch and a single flashlight, presumably Henning's, dropped by the door to the refrigerated storeroom (the reefer space).

The door leading into the reefer space stands open, but the dropped flashlight is pointing back towards the main hold. In such low lighting conditions the flashlight is dazzling, preventing anyone from seeing what lies beyond.

Between gasps Starkweather shouts, "Come on, quick! All our fresh food is in there!" The explorer pushes ahead through the choking fumes towards the reefer space.

Among the party following, Halperin almost chokes from the powerful ammonia fumes, and does not look like he can continue.

******

[OOC: Before posting for your character, everybody in 'Starkweather's party' must make a successful CONx5 roll (Sorry Kitt).

Failure means you are overcome by the fumes and must return to the main deck. A failed roll of 95%+ means that you are completely overcome and must be helped back up the ladder.

Anyone who makes their roll successfully can follow Starkweather.]

The stench was so overpowering that McRavens eyes began to smart, the rolling torch irritated him so he bent to pick it up, on doing so he dropped the napkin that he was using.
Taking a breath has he came back up has McRaven gagging and coughing uncontrollably...he staggers back to the ladder. Its clear to see that he needs assistance, and more importantly the torch is still on the ground rolling around.

Kitt just looks around enthusiastically, wondering if she could spot a clue of the mysterious saboteur. She never much cared for beating the other ship to the South Pole. So long as she was able to get there and fly there eventually, she didn't mind. At the very least, the ammonia had cleared her blocked nose and the excitement had settled her stomach. After all that seasickness she had suffered, she even wondered if she should bottle this stuff and keep it with her. Despite the fact that it smelled so very poorly and stung her eyes and nose, she almost felt better. Perhaps it was the wine.

She tries to hide her excitement, assuming that no one else would share her good spirits.

Jack is momentarily staggered by the odor but manages to remain on his feet and keeps after Starkweather.

Callum follows the example of the others, and covers his face. Seeing that Halperin is struggling to go on, Callum help the crewman back on deck before following Starkweather into the murky hold.

McRaven is helped back up the ladder by Darren Horst one of the Gabrielle's quartermasters who is also unable to continue through the noxious fumes.

While some retreat back to the deck Starkweather and the others dash through the hold. As he approaches the Reefer Space Starkweather stoops to retrieve Henning's discarded flashlight with his free hand, and directs its beam through the open doors to the refrigerated storeroom.

It will be impossible to determine whether this is a malfunction or an act of sabotage until later, but a fracture in the Reefer Space's coolant pipes has allowed gallons of liquid ammonia to spray out over the food packages. Rapidly boiling into a transparent gas the escaped ammonia filled the refrigerator until Henning arrived and opened the doors, flooding the whole hold with the toxic gas.

Surveying the scene quickly Starkweather half coughs, half shouts, "Get what... you ... can...up to the ... deck!"

With that he rushes into the Reefer Space, grabs the driest food package he can find and dashes back out towards the ladder.

Jack, recognizing the urgency of the situation, does as much as possible to comply with Starkweather's directive. Another crisis, and we haven't even reached the ice yet, he thinks.

Through all the chaos Callum sees a need for some kind of order. "We should...*cough*.....form a chain, and pass the food along....*cough cough*.....It would be quicker that way..."

For most of the voyage, at least up to today, Isugtag had been true to his usual image of tall silent Inuit. Although he did speak a bit when either following one of the classes, or helping out Sykes with his own knowledge of winter gear; the rest of his time was spent in total silence. With what spare time he had, the big Inuit either simply sat outside, smoking his pipe while looking at the horizon, or down in his shared cabin, reading one of the books he had picked up during they stay in New York. He wasn't particularly interested in their content. It was mainly a personal exercise to improve his own understanding of English. He had even ventured out of his personal cocoon a few times to ask definitions to Sean McPherson.

Isugtag was also growing rather fond of Callum. The Scotsman and himself actually ended up having a lot more in common than he had thought at first glance. His knowledge of mountains were beyond what he had ever seen, especially in a European.

It wasn't until Sunday swung by that Isugtag finally seemed to manifest some sort of emotion toward something. His usual somber and serious air was briefly replaced by a rather obvious frown when it was suggested, through one of the “initiation rights” that he's shave his head. When the “barber” had touched his long black and gray pony tail, the almost animalistic grunt he had been given had made things rather clear: cut my hair and I'll split you in two.

Everything in the day was going rather fine and dandy afterwards... until the telltale smell of ammonia came to the hunter's nostril. As his brow furrowed, the big Inuit didn't immediately understood what was going on. Starkweather was shouting something and diving down the ship hold, to be followed by other crew member, McRaven and Callum. Seconds later, Isugtag flattened his big frame out of the way as Jack passed him, diving head along with the others. It wasn't until Olof passed by him running that he understood what was going on.

As Olof asked him the whereabouts of Greene, Isugtag simply gave him a sort of shrug as he began moving toward the number 4 tween deck hold. His right hand moved to the back of his head, as he pulled on the bandanna he used to keep his long hair tied together. Undoing it, he quickly folded it a few times on itself and wrapped it around the bottom part of his face. As the smell became more and more pugnant, and the sting more and more pronounced in his eyes, Isugtag couldn't help himself but think back to the bloodied fields of France. Keeping his head down to avoid hitting the ceiling, the large Inuit made his way down as fast as he could, passing by other crew members who were going in the opposite direction. About to step down to the lower level, he couldn't help himself but slow down as he saw McRaven being helped out by a member of the crew who's name he couldn't quite remember. For a second, he hesitated. Push on, or stop to check on his friend. He crossed McRaven eyes for a second, giving him a brief nod. The Yank would be alright... he was built strongly. The second after, Isugtag was sliding down the ladder, his boots thudding heavily as his frame hit the floor. He could already see Starkweather and Jack running back in his direction, with Callum shouting something... well, it was more like coughing and trying to shout something. As he neared him, Isugtag simply shook his head to him.

“No time” was all he said as he extended his arm forward “Give me as many as you can”.

Kitt has a quick look at the fracture, wondering if she should attempt to fix it, though she knows little about this kind of contraption. If she feels there is no chance, she'll also attempt to grab a few boxes of dried food and rush back.

"It's one of... the crew... hurt badly... Starkweather called for you. Take your bag... and come with me..." Olof is tired by the fast running and haven't really catched his breath as he explains to Dr. Greene what's the matter.

SS Gabrielle

Kitt glances more closely at the fractured pipe before grabbing a food package.

The blown-out pipe section is pitted and corroded. The corrosion, however, seems to be limited only to a section of pipe less than a foot long. Everywhere else, the refrigeration piping is tarnished, but whole. As she turns away to pick up the package Kitt notices that there are a number of small pits and burned-looking depressions on the deck immediately below the damaged pipe.

There isn't any more ammonia left in the pipe, so there is little that can be achieved for now other than saving what they can of the food.

Unfortunately Isugtag is probably correct, the fumes are so powerful that nobody can remain down in the hold for long anyway, it proves safer to dash between the deck and the reefer space, carrying as much food as possible on each trip and pausing in the fresh air on deck each time.

More crew and expedition members join in with the efforts to remove the food and clean up the reefer space. While some volunteers dash in and out of the refrigerator carrying food, others take brief shifts inside scrubbing down the walls and floor in an effort to lessen the smell.

Captain Vredenburgh arranges for the ship's cranes to be used to open up the number four hold's cargo hatch to clear the choking gas from the hold itself, but the reefer space itself it accessed only through it's door, so there is nothing that can be done but to send in the cleanup teams.

Meanwhile Olof returns with Richard Greene to attend to those stricken by the gas, starting with young Henning. Professor Graves soon arrives to help with the treatment.

************

There are twelve tonnes of perishable food stored in the reefer hold, and removing it all by hand takes hours; dinnertime passes by during the commotion. Of the twelve tonnes of food almost a quarter is ruined and must be thrown overboard, either because it was unsealed and exposed to the noxious fumes, or because it's packaging has been soaked by the liquid ammonia. Unfortunately this includes all of the fresh fruit brought aboard at Panama City.

The Reefer Hold itself will be out of commission until the ship makes port, this means that all the remaining perishables will need to be consumed with the next day or two, or they will ruin in the heat, there simply isn't anywhere else aboard to keep them cool.

************

As the sun sets that evening the final efforts at assessing the damage are still underway. Captain Vredenburgh meets with James Starkweather on the boat deck overlooking the hold. Their heated debate can be heard everywhere amidships, particularly by those still labouring in the open number four hold.

"We must turn back, sir," the captain insists.

"No, Captain!" argues Starkweather. "We must not!"

"Mister Starkweather - we are four days out from Panama City. Australia is a good two weeks away. We cannot repair the machinery in the middle of the ocean, we do not have the materials to do so. Your supplies will spoil, sir! They will rot, and be worthless to you, before we can possibly arrive!"

Starkweather scowls blackly. "We shall not turn back, Captain!" he snaps. "We have lost too much time already! She is several days ahead of us - we shall not loose another day! We shall buy more supplies, if need be - now press on!"

Starkweather storms away toward the bridge, Vredenburgh remains for a moment, voices a single quiet epithet, and then follows.

************

Down in the hold, several crewmembers look at one another.

"He’s crazy," says one.

"He’s gone off his nut," says another. "He’s bloody starkers!"

A third laughs bitterly.


---------------------------

Kitt - Spot Hidden Roll = [08%]

[OOC: I remember somebody, Jack I think, made a joke about Starkweather very similar to the 'Bloody Starkers' one back at the hotel. ]

Olof is tired from today's work, but he is happy of being of assistance, although this was an unfortunate setback. Unlike the crew he does not question Starkweather's judgement. They have come too far to let this incident stop them and as the commander says they can always buy food when arriving to Australia.

Perhaps it is possible to fix the leak? It's a matter of an engineering problem and after all Olof is an engineer.

OOC: If it's possible I'd like to try to fix the leak or at least diagnose the leak.

After the first half hour, Kitt gets a headache from the fumes and very soon her enthusiasm peters out, only to be fired up anew when she realises that much of this food now has to be eaten, and soon! There will be a veritable feast for the next few days.

Callum listens to the conversation between Starkweather and Captain Vrendenburgh, with some trepidation. He is not pleased with what he hears, and goes to speak with the only person that Starkweather even remotely listens to, Professor Moore.

"You really must go and talk to him Professor!" says Callum after relaying the conversation to Moore. "Starkweather is not being rational. We must seek out somewhere to make repairs, and take on more provisions. Even if we can fix the pipes in the cooler system, we have no refridgerant to fill it up again. To proceed, without the correct supplies, would be sheer lunacy."

Stopping to take a drink to ease his raw throat, Callum continues, choosing his words carefully "I'm not suggesting that Starkweather has gone over the edge, but one more setback and he might take us all down with him...."

James, after hearing about the cooling incident, tries to find out from the ships captain or Professor Moore, if there is a South American port the could call at and pick up fresh supplies. "That way we wouldnt lose as much time as turning back to Panama."

A damnable business, this, Jack mutters to himself. The work has been fatiguing beyond sense, yet the bigger problem was that the food supply was severely compromised. Starkweather's rant, which everyone either had heard directly or knew about intimately second- and thirdhand, cast an even blacker pall over the events. Others had talked about trying to convince Starkweather to find a port somewhere to make repairs and take on new supplies, but Jack knew such efforts, even from Moore, would be pointless. Starkweather was hellbent on getting there before She did, and he wouldn't care whether he had to take the rest of them down to the bottom of the sea with him in the process. Starkweather was just insane enough to be thoroughly dangerous to anyone who impeded him, but not so obviously dangerous that he was operating beyond what Jack assumed was the margin of command. Jack had seen enough of Starkweather's type in the Great War to know that Starkweather couldn't be disloged or even slightly deflected from his chosen task, and he seriously doubted whether anyone would alter the man's mental course by a single degree. No, the die was cast, as far as the big chief was concerned.

Now the question was how to present this to the folks back home. He couldn't outright lie in his story, but he'd have to downplay the severity of what had happened, or else (he assumed) he either get censored by Starkweather or become persona non grata, and neither option was one Jack particularly wanted to take. He was already composing the lede in his mind: "A minor setback today ..."

Sean thinks over the days events and then factors in the events of the recent past. He considers there may be a possible saboteur aboard, but if there is...who? Could it be one of our very crew or is it some hiding away amongst this huge vessel.

His now paranoid nature leads him to believe there is someone aboard this ship trying to stop them from making it to the Ice. At first it may have been bad luck but now it's apparent something devious is amidst the crew.

"Something must be done before anyone else is hurt..."

He sets out to find the bulk of the other explorers to explain his suspicions.

James finds that Captain Vredenburgh isn't really in the mood to talk to any of the expedition members at the moment, not even one of the financiers, he stares at James and says harshly, "Perhaps you should discuss your ideas with your friend Mister Starkweather. Now please leave, I have a ship to run."

*********

Wandering away from the bridge James locates Professor Moore just in time to catch the end of Callum's appeal to him. Surprisingly though the professor doesn't appear to be all that concerned about today's incident, or not the loss of food at least.

"Actually Callum I rather agree with Mister Starkweather about this. We have plenty of food, more than enough for the voyage to Australia. After all we have sufficient rations to survive in Antarctica for several months. Only the fresh food is ruined, and we still have a day or two to enjoy what remains of that."

"Now granted, I'd rather not be eating the pemmican at this stage, but I don't think that we should delay over this incident," he chuckles dryly, "the dogs are already eating the pemmican, so why not the explorers?"

"Mister Starkweather has radioed ahead already, and arranged for both our fresh food and our pemmican supplies to be replaced when we make port. The refrigeration equipment will also be repaired there."

"However I would like to find out exactly what happened today. If this is the work of a saboteur rather than a malfunction, then it is clearly intended to delay the expedition. Once the saboteur realises that the attempt has failed, they are certain to try again, and we cannot afford for them to find a more successful method."

"This nonsense must end before it costs someone their life, the young man Henning was lucky to survive this afternoon. Perhaps the two of you could organise a very quiet investigation?"

"Something must be done before anyone else is hurt..."

McRaven is still coughing when he hears Sean whispering under his breath. He motions for the man to come over

"Someone somewhere means this ship harm, we should team up with a few others, see what we can dig up"

Looking to McRaven he listens intently and gives a subtle nod in agreement.

Sean looks around for anyone else in the vicinity to recruit to their noble cause.

Jack sees Sean and McRaven talking and ambles over to them. After hearing of their plans [OOC: presuming they're going to tell him], he replies, "Well, if you fellows think I'd be any help, I'll come along. I'm not a private investigator or anything of the sort, as you know, but I'm decent with a question."

"A good man for questions is what we need right now" Says McRaven, his voice drops to a low murmer before continuing "And I think some questions about our crew could be in order"

Olof tries to find Captain Vredenburgh. When he does so he tells the captain: "I think I can fix the refrigerator with the material we have here at sea. I can not do anything about the lost ammonia, but repairing it now would minimize our stay in Australia. Even if Starkweather might think otherwise, it's your ship and I believe I'd need your blessing to begain repairing the broken pipes."

Callum studies Moore's calm face for a few seconds then replies "Very well Professor. I'm not completely convinced by your speech, but James and I will do as you request, and investigate the incident. We will inform you of anything we find."

Kitt goes to check on her plane, if possible, fearing that a saboteur may have gotten to that as well.

James being a little suprised by Professor Moore's reaction nods & turns to Callum "I think we should organise a room where we can start questioning the crew straight away"

Once Professor Moore is out of earshot he continues "This voyage has certainly been plagued by more mis-haps than I find acceptable & I do not intend to see anyone else's life put into unnecessary danger, we are going to have to take a firm hand over the questioning, starting with Henning, if he is fit to be questioned, and any other crew that were close by when the incident happened. We will need to make sure secure quarters for any suspects are arranged and all security staff co-operated with to get to the bottom of this.

Washing his hands after giving Henning a thorogh examination, Graves turns to speak to the crew member.

"You've had a lucky escape young man, there is very little internal damage."

He wipes his hands on a towel and walks over to the examination table staring intently at the youngster sitting on it.

"Now think carefully lad," he begins in a serious tone, "in all the time you have been working in that area have you seen anything suspicious at all?"

The messboy thinks for a few seconds before shaking his head and replying:

"No Professor, I didn't see a thing. Mr Whitney sent me down t'get the food for the evenin' meal. Almost everyone else was still having a party."

"Everything seemed to be ok, until I opened the Reefer door, then it was terrible, I couldn't breath. I just got out of there as quick as I could."

"You don't think someone did it on purpose do you?"



[OOC: Judas Whitney (clue in the name perhaps?) is the Chief Steward, and therefore Henning's boss]

"I dont think that questioning the crew is what Moore had in mind James. Something a bit more subtle is needed here. Perhaps we should start with going through the Crews personal belongings, on the quiet of course, to see what we can find. We'll have to be very careful though, sailores can get a bit touchy about things like that..."

"Well, all right then," Jack says to Sean and McRaven. "I'm happy enough to help if you think it really would be help. It's clear I don't know my stem from my stern when it comes to boats--ships, I mean. See?" He chuckles a little.

"One thing we might want to know is who would have unquestioned access to the reefer. I mean, I really haven't been paying attention, but can just anyone go down there unchallenged? Maybe, but my sense is that people belong in certain places and they're noticed if they're not. We also seem to be looking for someone fairly clever but either not too experienced in sabotage or not inclined to harm us fatally. As bad as the damage is, we can recover from it, especially if we turn back or delay our voyage.

"I think we also might want to think about what some key points of the ship are so that we can keep watch. We can't guard everything, of course, which is why there's all the more need to think about what's vital. If someone wants to keep hurting us, how would he do it?"

"I'm not sure if it was done on purpose or not, but I think it would be wise for us both to keep an eye out for any suspicious goings on." Graves smiles, lightening the mood slightly. "better to be safe than sorry wouldn't you say."

McRaven ponders on Jacks words for a moment.
"Hell he'd go for anything that would force us to turn back. He's gone for the food, he could just as easily target drinking water, fuel for the aircraft or the aircraft themselves...so i think some of us should check over that. While Jack..."

McRaven then lapses in silence, looking around him and at the crew.

"You know when we were digging around while back in the states....the sailors were a close knit bunch, I wonder if whoever is doing this is like us...a stranger, someone new, recently joined...maybe you should check that out"

"You are right Callum, I still think we will need to question the crew but having a look around first certainly wont harm. I would prefer it if we did this quite methodically and made a few notes whilst we go along, just things like date & times checked on each room & if everything looks in order or anything unusual then, if needed, we can take our findings to whoever necessary"

"Do you think we need to mention what we are doing to anyone else as yet?" James was still thinking about who's help they would need if they found anything that needed dealing with.

With some help Olof finishes the repairs. He notices the damage, which looks done by some sort of corrosive agent. Is this intentional or an accident? Why would someone do something like this? Is there a saboteur on board?

Olof goes and tries to find Jack who has a nose for these kind of things.

It's long after sunset by the time Olof finishes the repairs, the Gabrielle's deck is mostly in darkness as he and the engine hand Sidney Beakins climb up out of the number 4 tween-deck hold. Now that the vile stench of ammonia has mostly cleared, the captain has had the heavy cover replaced over the hold main hatch, and the ship is once again steaming steadily south-west through calm seas.

Beakins continues aft towards his own quarters in the aftcastle as Olof heads to the crew's mess looking for Jack. He locates the journalist in their cabin, Dr Greene isn't there, but Sean and McRaven are, the three seem deep in thought as Olof enters the cramped cabin.

[OOC: Henrik: You can have Olof join the discussion in the Investigation#1 thread now if you like]

SS Gabrielle - Pacific Ocean, Three Days South of the Equator.
10:15am - Thursday 28th September, 1933

After the 'accident' with the reefer store, the Gabrielle spends the next three days cruising steadily south west towards Australia without further incident. Starkweather spent a lot of the time in the Gabrielle's radio room, communicating ahead with suppliers in Melbourne to make sure that everything will be in place to repair and restock the reefer store.

Tuesday the twenty-sixth was a good day, the weather was pleasant, and most of the perishable food was consumed at great banquets of fresh fruit, vegetables and meat in both the officers and the crew messes. And most of it only tasted faintly of ammonia. Only Professor Graves looked too disappointed, his customary English breakfast was out of the question as all of the eggs were found to be inedible and thrown overboard. That evening Starkweather finds Olof and sincerely thanks him for his work repairing the damaged reefer store pipes.

Wednesday was not so good, the weather was still nice enough, but that was now part of the problem. Little of the good food now remained, and even that was spoiling rapidly in the tropical heat.

By the time of the evening meal, everybody aboard found themselves eating meals that consisted of mostly pemmican. Concentrated food consisting of dried pulverized meat, dried berries, and rendered fat, pemmican is the food of choice for (Ant)arctic explorers and everybody knew that they would be eating it once the ice is reached.

No one except for the sledge dogs was supposed to be eating it anywhere north of the Antarctic circle though.

The morale of the Gabrielle's crew rapidly plummets. Wherever members of the expedition travel they find themselves observed darkly by surly, almost hostile sailors. Mutterings about "Bloody Starkers," "Moore" and "Jonah" can often be heard. The ship's officers try their best to keep a lid on the situation, but there is clearly a rumour spreading throughout the crew the Starkweather and Moore are bad luck for the ship and are somehow responsible for everything that has gone wrong.

The rumours apparently began amongst the engine crew, with wild rumours of failed prior expeditions involving the two, and the general feeling is that this expedition and the Gabrielle herself are doomed.

Thursday the twenty-eighth begins with clear blue skies, more tropical heat, and an unappetising breakfast of pemmican served to the expedition by the two messboys Scott and Hennings, who look every bit as sullen as the rest of the crew.

At 10:15am the sounds from the dog pen in hold #5 rise higher and higher to a fevered pitch, punctuated by vicious barks and growls. The reason for the change in the sound is obvious to anyone who hears it: the dogs are fighting. It sounds as if they are at each others’ throats.

Moments later, a crewman sounds the alarm. Gregor Pulaski and Erik Frodesen race up the ladder from their quarters in the aft. Off-duty sailors trail behind, curious to see what’s going on.

Jack had gotten a sense of the crew's discontent. Indeed, they hadn't really gone to any trouble to keep it a secret. Privately, Jack even shared some of their suspicions. He had no love for Starkweather himself, and bad luck--or whatever it was; Jack wasn't very reflective in matters of Providence or cosmic destiny or the like--seemed to shroud the man like a blanket.

When Jack hears the sound of dogs, he groans. What now, for goodness sake? He isn't anxious to find out what's going on, either, as he knows he'd be no damn good at separating semiwild beasts trying to tear each other--or him--apart, which sounded to him too much like that one and only time his ex-wives, current and future, had gotten together.

Sean eatting away at some pemmican looks down at it and says blatantly...

"I'll be damned if I don't get some real food soon, bad enough I'll be eatin' this the entire time i'm out their slipping on the big ice box..."

Just then hearing the alarm he tenses up a bit as if this is what he had felt coming. He starts to question himself over him and Bill's(mcRaven) search of the holds, etc.


thinking..."Did we miss something!?"

He quickly gets up from his bed and rushes out to find anyone nearby to question on the event.

Olof decides that this might be a good reason to leave breakfast early. The pemmican is not a real treat and perhaps this dog business has some more nefarious explanation? The engineer excuses himself and leaves to see what is going on, although he has very little experience with dogs and sled dogs in particular.

Kitt tags along, thinking to herself that it might be nice to invite everyone to play a game of cards later.

Graves also rushes towards the sound of the fighting dogs, thinking he may be needed to patch up any injuries sustained by the animals.

SS Gabrielle - Main Deck, by the hatch to the #5 Tween-Deck Hold.
10:16am - Thursday 28th September, 1933

Frodesen and Pulaski reach the hatch down to the #5 hold first, they have much less distance to cover as the run from their quarter in the aft-castle. When the entrance to the hold is flung open, Pulaski curses viciously and Frodesen lets loose a small cry. The scene below is horrible.

The dog crates are attached to the bulkhead in rows, supported by steel frames. The dogs live in them, but the doors are removed every morning and replaced again every night. During the daytime the animals are restrained only by thick leather straps that are long enough so that the dogs can move around a bit.

Some of the huskies have pulled off of their tethers. Many of them are out of their cages, snarling and barking at the tops of their lungs, eyes wide, fangs exposed as they rage. The sound is incredible; so is the smell. Two dogs claw and tear at each other in the centre of the hold; two others race frantically around and around, snapping and biting at their comrades. Others, unable to attack, snap and lunge at anything that comes near.

The dogs bear long vicious scratches along their sides. Some have huge chunks of skin and flesh hanging from their flanks; smears of blood and tufts of fur are everywhere, and the beasts are matted and dark with gore. Four of the dogs already lie dead in darkening pools on the deck, their throats ripped out. Others, still in their cages, tear at themselves convulsively. All the animals are covered with traces of crimson.

The sharp tang of blood mingles with fear and musk in a thick repugnant wave.

Callum arrives late at the scene. Behind the others. "Whats going on?" he says, stretching to see past the crew...

SS Gabrielle - Main Deck, by the hatch to the #5 Tween-Deck Hold.
10:17am - Thursday 28th September, 1933

"What the hell?" Pulaski is incredulous. "What’s got into them?"
"They need help," says Frodesen. "I go down!"
"No!" Pulaski hisses, holding the other man back. "What if they’re rabid?"
"But - look! - You see them? They need us! We have to help them!"

Mister Turlow and a handful of others (including Callum and James) arrive a moment later. Turlow looks darkly into the hold. He asks what is wrong with the beasts, but no one knows. Other crewmembers murmur in appalled fascination as they watch.

"Look - they’ve got rabies."
"They're all killing each other!"
"We're all doomed."
"It’s Starkers' curse, I tell ya!"

"Shut up - look who's listening!" Turlow sends the sailors away brusquely and turns to Frodesen. "Those beasts are either diseased or they’re not," he says, "but they are certainly killing one another down there. The killers have got to be put down, for their own sake, and for the sake of the crew and the other dogs. Do you want to do it? Or should I?"

Frodesen searches for words. Pulaski just looks disgusted and angry. "I’ll do it," Pulaski drawls. "Get me a gun. And some help cleaning up down there afterwards."

One of the dogs screams. Pulaski scowls. "Aw, hell. Hurry, won’t you?"

First Officer Turlow leaves, jogging towards the bridge deck to fetch a handgun.

"We checked on these dog's last night & there was absolutely nothing wrong with them, all their behavior's were normal & the only unusual thing was that I spotted something 'rat' like scurrying into a corner but when I went to have a closer look I couldn't see anything" James speaks up a bit as he fears everyone is going to insist that all the dogs are put down.

"If they had Rabies some of the symptoms would have come out sooner but for no symptoms to be showing last night to then come to this all I can think of is that they have been poisened or something else has happened to force them intro this state - are we sure there is no way of checking if these symptons will pass without destroying the remaining dogs?"

"Those poor things," says Kitt. "Are they all violent? I just wish I could go down there and calm them down. They're dogs, right? They would love to have human company."

"This behaviour seems strange to me. I don't have much experience with dogs, but do they usually get upset with each other in this sort of way?" Olof is perplexed by the whole situation. "My aunt had a dog that I used to walk at times, and it happened occasionally that it disliked other dogs we met, but that was always some sort of initial reaction. These dogs have known each other for a long time. I thought that dogs either liked each other or not. But then my expertise is with engineering, not dogs."

James wrote: ".....are we sure there is no way of checking if these symptons will pass without destroying the remaining dogs?"

Gregor Pulaski shakes his head sadly, "No, don't worry we will not be killing them all, but unfortunately Turlow is right - the killers must be shot, for everyone's safety. There is no other solution."

Olof wrote: ".....But then my expertise is with engineering, not dogs."

Frodesen agrees with Olof, "You are right. This is a crazy, crazy thing to happen. Never have I had dogs do this!"

---------------------------------------------

SS Gabrielle - Main Deck, by the hatch to the #5 Tween-Deck Hold.
10:21am - Thursday 28th September, 1933

Turlow returns after a few minutes with a handgun and ammunition. He is accompanied by Professor Moore, who quizzes the onlookers while Pulaski loads the weapon, Moore is particularly interested in hearing from James that the dogs were fine last night. The distraught Frodesen agrees, "They fine this morning as well. When we let them out of their cages and feed them."

The massacre is brief and unpleasant. All the remaining dogs bark and howl the echoes of each shot thunder in the hold. Pulaski fires six times from the top of the ladder, killing five dogs. Only once does he miss his mark; the wounded malamute screams loudly before a second shot silences it.

As soon as the shooting is over, Frodesen jumps into the hold, heedless of his own safety, to reassure the remaining animals. "Get Olav!" he shouts, but Olav Sørensen is already there, and follows him down. In minutes the frantic dogs grow quieter, and they are soon returned to their cages without too much difficulty. They remain unusually noisy and agitated though.

A party of seamen, appointed by the first mate, arrives with mops and buckets as Pulaski finishes his grisly job. They look extremely uneasy about the work, scared of both the dogs and of catching some disease.

Overwhelmed with Disgust by what he sees, he opts to take pictures, However is unsure what kind of reaction he will get for such activity. Reaching down into his pocket he pulls out a small notebook usually carried for small information gathering, but instead begins to write out the events that have transpired starting with the strange death of the captain back at port. He finishes with descriptions of the grizzly scene here in the hold with the dogs.

"hmmm..."

He looks for McRaven and goes to him.

"What do you think Bill?"

Olof shortly contemplates returning to breakfast, but the dogs have made him lose all remaining appetite. He decides to take a walk around deck his mind troubled by dark thoughts.

SS Gabrielle - Inside the #5 Tween-Deck Hold.
10:26am - Thursday 28th September, 1933

The task of cleaning out the pens is very unpleasant work indeed; the air is thick with the reek of the fatally wounded and terrified dogs. The bodies of the dead dogs are put onto canvas tarps and hauled up out of the hold to be thrown over the side. The smears of blood and bile are then swabbed up and rinsed away. Everyone is unhappy about touching the mess, and fearful of catching some illness. Throughout process the surviving dogs are extremely noisy and agitated.

Olav Sørensen, the other dog handler is also uneasy as he examines the still living dogs with Professor Graves. "Something is very wrong Professor," he says. "They are sick."

Graves spends a few minutes examining the two worst effected of the surviving dogs, Mama-san and Picardy. They are both in great distress: Their muscles twitch incessantly, they cannot stand up, and their breathing and heartbeat are incredibly rapid. Tremors come and go in waves, and the poor beasts can do little than whine and snap impotently at anyone who comes near.

After briefly examining the two dogs Graves looks extremely concerned and calls Professor Moore and James down into the hold.

When Moore reaches him Graves has some dire news, "There is no doubt Professor, these hounds are not diseased at all. Rather they have been poisoned, as James suggested."

"I suspect from the symptoms that strychnine is the cause, but I'll need to perform an autopsy to be sure. These two dogs are done for I'm afraid, they are in tremendous pain and I doubt that anything can be done ease their torment." He shakes his head sadly, "It would be a mercy to just shoot them both now."

The Professor gestures to the other cages, "The rest of the dogs don't seem to have such bad symptoms, hopefully they'll all recover fully."

"I thought it didn't quiet look like Rabies, although that might have been easier to hear rather than these poor animals have been poisoned on purpose" James is standing clear of the dogs as he doesn't want to risk agitating them further & is talking in calm soothing tones to try to ease the other dogs temperament.

"Is there any way of telling when they were poisoned? as I said they were fine last night, would it have been done since then?"

"I should really be getting back to Isugtag to make sure he is ok & let him know what has happened. Might I suggest that it is prudent for us to try to keep a guard over our own food, whats left of it, and start making formal investigations now that we know this was no accident or illness?"

"Everytime I think the saboteur has done what he felt the need to do, it gets worse," says Kitt to herself. "Why on earth would he do this? It makes no sense. It's just an expedition. Does it really matter if I reach Antarctica first or Lexington does? Perhaps I should just get off at the next stop. Would that end ... this?" She turns and moves almost sleepily away.

Jack tries to find an expedition member to find out what happened. Failing that, he'll seek out whoever's available.

McRaven had simply crashed out when he got to his bunk. Combination of the long day, the and the exposure to the ammonia had simply taken it out on him. It took a while for the chaos with the dogs to register in his sleep addled brain.

Still tired as he wandered to the holds again, he was roused by the sound of a gun.

Running this time, he saw a scene of confusion people milling about everywhere...trying to to learn what had happened, he learns from a crewman of the dogs. Feeling helpless he hangs around, wondering if anyone would notice him slinking off...jeez he was tired!

The sean came up to him, all business like and holding a notepad and asks him what he thinks. McRaven simply shrugs.

"Just got here Sean, but it seems unlikely those dogs suddenly got ill. With all thats going on, I'd say 5 would get you 20 that our sabotager slipped those hounds a micky"

As Callum and James raced out of the #3 tween-deck hold, Isugtag leaned his heavy frame against the closest support. Ever since the very first incident, back in New York with Lawrence, everything had seemingly gone down hill. Then, Douglas had been murdered, they had gotten strange letters from unknown parties, and now, they apparently had a saboteur amongst their midst. It wasn't to say that nothing had gone well or as planned. Far from that. But things could have fared in a much brighter light. Out of the inside pocket of his vest, Isugtag took his tobacco box and started to fill his pipe up.

Scratching a match, he was about to light it when he heard the first shot. Quickly, his mind started to race. To his knowledge, all weapons (beside the one he had hidden on himself) were securely locked. Another shot rang out inside the boat, it's echo sounding hallow in the hold. The big Inuit launched himself forward, shaking his hand to extinguish the match as his free hand buried itself under the back of his vest.

Just as he was coming out of the hold and closer to whatever was happening, Isugtag came upon James. With his hand still wrapped around the revolver stuck in his back, the old Inuit gave the young man a rather somber look. At first glance, James didn't appear hurt, or alarmed in any ways. He looked more... disturbed.

Isugtag relaxed a bit; if people had been in danger, James would have been slightly more alarmed.

Releasing his grip on the revolver, he tucked his vest a little back down to cover it, and put one of his big paws on James' shoulder.

“What is going on?” said the Inuit in his usual half broken English.

"Isugtag I was just coming to let you know what has happened" James is releived to see the big Inuit where they had left him & in no apparent danger.

"The dogs look they have been poisoned & have turned on one another. We have had to put a couple down but, hopefully, a few will come out of this relatively unhurt. It is going to be quite a set back for the sled team as I think we will need to replace some of them, if possible."

James pauses briefly to give Isugtag time for the implications of this news to register "This is getting beyond a joke & we need to get to the bottom of this at the earliest possibility, what do you think we should do now, as I feel we need to step up our search for the sabouteur"

SS Gabrielle - The Officer's Mess.
12:30pm - Thursday 28th September, 1933

Professor Graves quickly leaves the hold, but asks that Picardy be brought immediately to the expedition lab/office as well as whatever is left of dogs’ food and drink.

The remaining expedition dogs do not appear to have been badly effected, and by the time the clean up operation is complete they have settled back down. However of the original thirty six malamute dogs, nine are now dead - a full sled team.

Two hours later, at twelve thirty, Professor Moore and Officer Turlow call a meeting of the expedition staff. Forty people cram themselves into the officer’s mess. The atmosphere is tense as Professor Graves explains his findings:

"The dogs, as some of you may have already heard, were poisoned with strychnine. I have found traces of powdered strychnine in some of the dogs’ food dishes. The powder was also found in the most recently opened box of pemmican, the one that was used to feed the dogs."

"The amount of strychnine found on the remaining pemmican blocks in the poisoned box constitutes a lethal dose. Each of the portions I examined, if consumed, would have killed any dog - or any man or woman - on this ship. Had this box been carried onto the ice and opened there, it is likely that several of us would have died. Only sheerest fortune has spared us today."

"We've have opened and sampled the contents of two other pemmican crates; fortunately there was no trace of contamination in either. The crate that our own breakfasts were taken from this morning was also uncontaminated."

Graves pauses for effect, "I can take little comfort in that."

"We have at this time no way of knowing when the poison was placed in the food, or how many other crates have been affected. It could have been done before we left New York; it may equally have been done only yesterday. Two things, however, are clear."

"Firstly, the poisoning was not done during the manufacturing process. The strychnine, in powdered form, was added to the wrapped packages, not mixed into them."

"Secondly, the presence of strychnine powder in our most important supplies means that someone, somewhere, wishes us all to die. I find I cannot ignore the fact that, if the deed was not performed in New York, then we have a would-be murderer aboard this vessel, one who could strike again at any moment."

After that, the Professor steps aside, and Moore takes centre stage, explaining that: "In order to prevent any similar tragedies from occurring, I think that every bit of food in the expedition larder must be now be examined. In order to minimize delays, that examination must start at once, while the ship is still at sea."

Moore looks to the Sorensen brothers, "Nils, Gunnar I would like you two to take charge of that, organise as many people as you need into teams. This must be done as quickly as possible, but must also be extremely thorough. If there is any need for assistance from the ship’s crew, Mister Turlow is the man to see. He will ensure that you get all the help you need. That is all."

He pauses, then holds up a hand. "Now I would like the following people to remain here to speak to me please..."

"James Seymour, Callum, Jack Wilson, Kitt, Isugtag, Olof Eriksson, Sean, Bill McRaven..."

He turns to Professor Graves who is still stood next to him, "and you of course Professor."

Other expedition members are already filing out; some are sombre, while others angrily discuss the latest incident.


OOC:

@Orion_UK & Mister Juan: Sorry to cut off your conversation, you should find that you can carry it on with Moore and the others anyway.

Jack guesses that one concern Moore and Starkweather will have is publicity. Nothing like a story about a doomed ship to liven up the folks at home. He tries to think of how much he'd be willing not to tell his editors, hoping he'll know if and when the question comes up.

This is a bad business, he thinks. Now how do we make this work? Clearly our investigative efforts haven't paid off yet. We have to keep looking for a common denominator.

Callum stands up and help himself to another mug of coffee. Then settles down for the rest of the meeting....

Sean just shakes his head and thinks.

I don't like this one bit...

"Is there any way we can seal the food areas so that only one person has access?" asks Kitt, seeming somewhat embarressed at her own outburst but unable to withhold her question to wait for the others to speak first. "If we could do that, then we could tell if the seals were tampered with, the locks burned through, etc.?"

SS Gabrielle - The Officer's Mess.
12:45pm - Thursday 28th September, 1933

Laraqua wrote: "Is there any way we can seal the food areas so that only one person has access?" asks Kitt, seeming somewhat embarressed at her own outburst but unable to withhold her question to wait for the others to speak first. "If we could do that, then we could tell if the seals were tampered with, the locks burned through, etc.?"

Moore holds up his hand indicating that he'll answer in a moment. Once the rest of the expedition have left the mess only the investigators, Moore and Turlow remain. Turlow shuts all of the doors to the room, then nods to Moore.

"Excellent," says Moore. "I have a rather different task in mind for you all, if you would be so kind. I would like you to go through the holds and inspect the rest of the expedition’s gear. Looking for trouble, you know. It may be that our boy had more things in mind than poison."

"James and Callum have already started looking into this for me, and I hear that a few of the rest of you were digging around," Moore smiles wryly at McRaven, "but I think that the time has come to pool our resources and get organised."

"Mister Turlow is here to lend you assistance, get you into and out of the holds, and so forth, but it would be best if the inspections were kept quiet. Do your work, don’t talk about what you find to the others, merely bring the results to Mister Starkweather, Mister Turlow, or myself. We don’t, after all, know who the troublemakers are - and if they are aboard I’d rather they weren’t put on their guard any more than necessary. For this reason I don't think that it's a good idea to seal any of holds any more than they are already, I don't want the culprit to see that extra measures are in place."

"Better I think for some of you to keep a discrete watch of the holds, while others search them."

"Work in groups, and take your time - several pairs of eyes see things that one pair will not. We have ten days or so before we reach port, so don’t exhaust yourselves today. This is a precautionary measure."

Moore looks at each investigator in turn, then continues, "You may be wondering why I chose all of you:"

"Two reasons. First, between the lot of you, you were responsible for inspecting most of the cargo when it first came on board, so you know what you are looking at and are more likely to see any changes. Secondly, I've learned both in New York, and during the voyage so far, that you few are more than usually inclined to go poking into things on your own; I would rather that we were all pulling the same sled, so to speak."

Moore picks up a clipboard containing a complete cargo manifest, which he hands to Callum.

"Are there any questions?"

Yeah, loads, Jack thinks, but there's not much point in bringin' 'em up. The cargo checking seemed prudent, but it struck Jack as too passive. They were just all sitting around waiting for the saboteur to act, and they had no idea who the saboteur was (or who "they were," for that matter), what they really wanted, or where he would strike next. That gave the bad man certain advantages. Jack continued to think that a focus on people rather than gear was the right answer.

He looked at Turlow. Jack had had a chance to talk with the man, and he got about what he'd expected, which wasn't much. Turlow didn't know all of the crew or officers, but he, in typical service fashion (whatever that service is) couldn't imagine one of them being behind the sabotage. Indeed, Turlow suspected that it was one of the expedition members. Fair enough, Jack thought. I'd suspect the outsider, too, and I do. Jack didn't think Turlow was directly involved or anything of the sort--not yet--but he wasn't about to report any "irregularities" he found to any officer or crew member. Even if Turlow were as pure as the driven snow, he might be unintentionally passing on information to a trusted shipmate who really wasn't trustworthy.

Jack felt that the expedition members--minus the two principals--needed to get together and form, if not a different plan from Moore's, than a parallel one, one that paid more attention to means and motive.

Olof raised his hand to show that he indeed had questions. "Well, I did some checking of the broken pipe when I fixed the refrigeration system and it seems to me that the pipe was destroyed by acid and that the sabotage could not have been done before we left New York. It is thus clear to me that we have a saboteur onboard. I have two questions: Is it possible to get some sort of service record for the crew? Who are new on this trip or have worked here for a short time? Perhaps we could narrow down the list of possible suspects in such a way.

My second question is more of a theory concerning the saboteur or saboteur for that matter. Is it possible that we have a..., what do you call it,... a free passenger" The Swede was looking for a word unfamiliar to his vocabulary... "ah, a stowaway? Is that the proper term?"

SS Gabrielle - The Officer's Mess.
12:46pm - Thursday 28th September, 1933

Mister Turlow is furious at Olof's comment, he interjects angrily before Moore can reply, "Now I've had just about enough of these accusations! Before you go pointing fingers at members of my crew, perhaps you should look closer to home!"

"You had problems with theft and sabotage before you even left port. Your dog handlers enter the reefer store every day, and they'd be my first suspects for poisoning the dogs as well."

"Your pilots as well!" He looks at Kitt, "No offence intended mam..."

"...they're always going into the holds 'checking their aeroplanes'; the reefer space is accessed directly from the number four hold, and it isn't locked - they could have gone in anytime!"

Moore finally gets a word in, "Please calm down Mister Turlow! Nobody is accusing your crew at the moment, and we really won't get to the bottom of this by fighting amongst ourselves."

Turning to Olof he says, "You're sure that acid was the cause? In that case it's most likely that the deed was done during the Crossing the Line ceremony, or the party that followed. Poor young Hennings discovered the damage just as the party was finishing."

"Sadly that means that absolutely anybody onboard could have slipped away unnoticed and sabotaged the pipe. Assuming that the poison was added to the pemmican at the same time, it really doesn't seem right to accuse anyone just yet."

He looks back to Turlow, who's calmed down slightly now, but is still looking coldly at Olof, "Mister Turlow, what about the possibility of a stowaway? Could Olof be onto something?"

The First Officer nods, and smiles grudgingly at Olof, "Yeah I guess so, maybe we can other likely spots, as well as checking the holds. Lifeboats, places like that."

Jack whispers to Olof, "Let's talk in a bit about the officers and crew. I talked to Turlow and ..." He stops, feeling, rightly or wrongly, Moore and Turlow looking at him.

Olof nods in reply to Jack. Here is not the time and place.

Callum is shocked by Turlow's outburst. Olof's questions were seemed reasonable to me.

"I dont want to upset Mr. Turlow, but I agree with Olof. And pardon me for questioning your orders Professor Moore, but I think that not putting extra security on vital areas of the ship, is just asking for more trouble. As you said yourself Professor, its only ten days until we reach port, so what do we have to lose?" shifting uncomfortably in his seat he continues "We should at least get Isugtag's views. He is the 'Head of Security' for the expedition after all."

SS Gabrielle - The Officer's Mess.
12:47pm - Thursday 28th September, 1933

Ghost_1971 wrote: "I dont want to upset Mr. Turlow, but I agree with Olof. And pardon me for questioning your orders Professor Moore, but I think that not putting extra security on vital areas of the ship, is just asking for more trouble. As you said yourself Professor, its only ten days until we reach port, so what do we have to lose

"Don't worry this isn't the military Callum, you can question what I say whenever you like." Moore thinks for a moment then says, "I understand your concern about tightening security, but how can that be realistically done without tipping off the saboteur?"

"Making the holds more secure or posting sentries may well prevent further attacks from occurring, but it still doesn't solve the actual problem."

"There is no reason to assume that the saboteur will leave the ship when we reach Australia, but I would like to catch them before then." He looks to Turlow, "There's also no reason to suspect that they are a crewmember rather than an expedition member, and if anything I'm more concerned about members of the expedition."

"If the attacker is a member of our team, and their acts are allowed to continue when we reach Antarctica then I fear for everybody's lives."

"That's why I prefer a discrete surveillance of the holds, and thorough checks of their contents. By monitoring who goes in and out we may either catch them in the act or at least know when the damage is done and have a firm list of suspects."

"I'm concerned that if we aren't discrete enough, then we'll just spook the saboteur until we reach the ice. It would be relatively easy there to cause catastrophic damage to the expedition."

"It's also vitally important that we find out whether any damage has been done to the expedition equipment before we reach port. That will be our last chance to acquire replacements."

Callum wrote: "We should at least get Isugtag's views. He is the 'Head of Security' for the expedition after all."

Moore nods, "I agree."

"What do you think Isugtag?"

Isugtag had been rather assured that if he didn't say anything, people would leave him alone. It wasn't that he didn't like speaking, or that he didn't have any opinions.... he simply didn't think they were worth very much in this situation. The big Inuit was used to work outside, in the forest, or running the tundra. He was used to track both fierce predators, and human fugitives... all outside. Even though they had now been on said boat for quite some time, Isugtag still felt terribly uncomfortable. The sounds, the sights, the smells. It was all foreign to him. The only time he had been on a boat had been during the voyage from Halifax to England, and then across the channel to meet the Germans. And it had been nothing like this.

Still holding his unlit pipe, arms folded across his big chest, the large man cleared his throat.

“A rabbit is never caught twice in the same place.” simply said the man with his deep voice.

A few seconds of silence passed, as, apparently, everyone expected him to add something else.

“This boat is big. There are many places to strike. Too many places for us to watch all. Whoever is doing this probably knows the ship very well, and can evade us. The only way to hunt a prey when you do not know of his trail is to make it come to you.”

He unfolded his arms, putting one hand in his vest to get a pack of matches.

“Yes, checking the holds for damaged goods is good thing. Yes, watching the holds is a good thing. Yes, searching the ship for an unwanted passenger is a good. But I believe that we should bait this person to us. He is behaving like a cowardly animal, and should be hunted like one. ”

"Excellent idea! Maybe this could be achieved by securing most of the ship, but leave one or two places seemingly unguarded. This would hopefully make our saboteur go for the easy option, and then we can get our man..."

James re-iterates the fact that Callum, Isugtag & himself had been checking the holds for any signs of tampering & were making notes on stocks ect the previous night and had found nothing wrong with the dogs at all insinuating that it would be more likely that the dogs were poisoned recently..

"I had been saying to Isugtag that we need to find this saboteur as soon as possible &, athough I agree a team needs to work thoroughly on checking the rest of the holds & gear, we cannot let the person or persons responsible strike again. If the only way to put a stop to this is to bait a trap then I think that is what we should do, I do not want to see any more incidents happening, not only are peoples lives being put at risk and we haven't even arrived at our destination - but alot of time, care & money, not just my own, has ben invested into this voyage and now someone is just willing to disregard peoples efforts" James looks around the room before continuing.

"I am a little suprised about how quiet Mister Starkweather is being whilst all this is going on, it is a joint expedition between the two of you isn't it Professor Moore?"

Mister Juan wrote: “This boat is big. There are many places to strike. Too many places for us to watch all. Whoever is doing this probably knows the ship very well, and can evade us. The only way to hunt a prey when you do not know of his trail is to make it come to you.”

"If Isugtag is right about our 'friend,'" Jack interjects, "it would tend to poke a rather large hole in Mr. Turlow's theory that it's one of us. I know I barely know my port from my stern, and I can hardly find my aft with both hands." Jack hopes to lighten the mood a bit, but he also is more than a bit irritated at the unsurprising but still irksome accusation that someone on the expedition is the saboteur.

"Perhaps James there is not one of us, but can we really be sure of that? We are all basicly strangers here with different motives for boarding this ship and partaking in the expedition. Who knows if someone of us came aboard with ill intent. I'm not blaming anyone of you, but we need to keep an eye open for the possibility."

"Or so you say," says Kitt darkly. "Any expedition member with a background in journalism, piloting or even cookery would never be expected to know a ship thoroughly. That doesn't mean they don't."

McRaven thinks about what Isugtag said, and finds himself nodding in agreement.

"We can do checks discretely as part of our daily duties I guess, but he seems determined to force us into to port. He's targetted the food, he went for the dogs. He might try and put sugar into the fuel for the planes, bust the valves on our radios...he's got acid so he may even try for other important gear, like tents...cold weather clothing. Like us he's got the run of this tub, and he's smart, He waits...choose his targets....Isugtag is right we need to bait this goon and catch him in the act."

Olof sits silently listening to what is said.

"OK," Jack says. "Let's assume for the time being that the saboteur isn't one of us. If it is one of us, then any amount of planning isn't going to help.

"How might we bait a trap?"

Jack scratches his head.

"If he's really trying to get us to port, why? Why not just do something truly deadly? Presumably, our saboteur knows that we can resupply at this point still. My guess is that delay is the intent, not outright death--at least not yet." There are the obvious rivals in the other expedition, but Jack waits to see whether someone else brings that up.

"I am not 100% sure that the saboteur is trying to get us to dock into port as we were due to call into port anyway, as far as I am aware, all we have to do is radio ahead to ensure we have the replacements we require?. I don't know the mind behind these attacks so I am really struggling to understand the mentality of this or these persons, Jack, to enable me to come up with an idea of how to set a trap?"

Looking around the room James continues "If we are to set a trap it needs to be one that won't cause a massive amount of damage, like using any planes as bait, as if that goes wrong we will have even bigger problems than we do now!"

James turns to Isugtag "I am not sure how much you have had to do with tracking cowards like this in the past and I know you are more comfortable on land but do you have any idea's that might help in this situation?"

Professor Graves has stood alongside Moore listening keenly to the debate; he clears his throat and says, "Well, it seems to me that the saboteur knew exactly how to hit the expedition, first targeting the supplies then the dogs."

"Assuming that the dogs were the intended target, I'd imagine that replacing sled dogs will be rather difficult in Australia - particularly if we don't wish to be delayed there for long. Fortunately we still have three full teams, but if all thirty-six dogs had been poisoned the expedition could have been ruined!"

"Even more disturbingly, the poisoning of the dogs could have been pure chance, as I said before - this means that this 'saboteur' could in fact be a potential murderer. Again, many members of the expedition are irreplaceable - a single poisoning could have brought the whole expedition to an end."

"I concur that we should bait a trap, but the bait should be something that the saboteur cannot afford to ignore, they clearly know how best to damage the expedition and so the trap must take that knowledge into account. Perhaps offering the planes as bait would not be such a bad idea."

Seeing several no doubt horrified faces the professor adds, "So long as we are very, very careful of course."

SS Gabrielle - The Officer's Mess.
12:55pm - Thursday 28th September, 1933

Alongside Graves, Moore shakes his head, "Look I can see that the idea of baiting a trap is very popular, and I agree that being pro-active is perhaps for the best, but I must insist that whatever method is chosen, you do not forget that it is essential that we also check the holds for other acts of sabotage."

"We simply have to learn what other damage has been done to our equipment before we arrive in port in ten days time, time will not permit us to turn back once we sailing south again."

"We can make the holds more secure, but we still need to be able to check things ourselves. And the trap cannot be obvious, or the saboteur will doubtless just avoid it. And I must stress the need for secrecy, we cannot afford to trust anyone outside of this room, apart from Captain Vredenburg and Mister Starkweather."

"Professor," Jack says, "I'm not sure anyone disagrees with you about checking the holds--I don't. I think it'd be damn foolish not to. But I also agree that a trap sounds like a good idea, though I have my doubts that we can make something alluring enough. We should try, though."

Looking at James, Jack continues, "I think Graves said what I was thinking better than I did. I agree that we don't know the saboteur's motive, but he does seem to know how to slow us down. The point about the dogs is a good one. Even if the saboteur has some scruples about taking human life, though, should we press on, I doubt those scruples would hold up."

"I volunteer to check the hold. I like the idea of a trap, but I'm out of ideas of what would constitute a good trap. Anyone else interested in joining me?" Olof gives Jack a glance hoping that the journalist should join him in the boring task. After all they have stuff to discuss.

"I for one will continue the discreet checks in the holds, as suggested by you Professor. I have no problems with that, at all. But as to how to lure our saboteur into a trap, we need a very attractive bait, something vital to our survival. And I cant think of anything more vital on this ship than the Fresh Water. It's an obvious target really when you think about it. We are ten days out from our next docking point, and ten days without water would be pretty uncomfortable for all."

"Water's also the riskiest," Jack replies. "I think ten days without fresh water would be a bit more than just pretty uncomfortable." He swallows hard; just thinking about going without water that long makes him thirsty.

"Water's a logical target, all right, but I'm just not sure I'd be willing to risk it. The planes'd be hard to repair, let alone replace, but their loss'd be more expedition threatening than life threatening."

"I was under the impression one could only survive three to four days without water," says Kitt. "Perhaps use it as a lure later in the journey? If the others ones don't work out?"

"The question is: will this saboteur walk over corpses to attain his goals? Will he risk his own life or be able to kill for it? I'm not so sure of it, but then we can not hardly know until it has already happen."

OOC: As a point of information and explanation for those that don't catch the meaning: "To walk over corpses" is a direct translation of a Swedish idiom which means to be especially ruthless and uncaring when trying to reach one's goals. The literal meaning would actually be a person who is willing to commit murder to reach his or her goals, but in Swedish it is usually not understood in its literal sense.

SS Gabrielle - The Officer's Mess.
12:58pm - Thursday 28th September, 1933

"Come off it guys, I'm all for catching this bastard before someone gets seriously hurt." Mister Turlow looks Callum square in the eyes, "but there is no way anyone will be using this ship's fresh water supply as bait. That's unacceptably dangerous for everyone on board. Even if the trap works it's too reckless, we could all end up in jail for that."

"My suggestion would be to padlock all of the holds except for the number four and five holds. Hopefully that shouldn't appear to be too suspicious, as regular access is required to the reefer store and dog kennels anyway."

"That gives the saboteur a choice of going after the food or dogs again, or switching to the aircraft or base building materials. The two holds are right next to each other, so completely staking them out above and below deck should be easy for four or five men."

Turlow looks to see if anyone objects and asks, "What about a stowaway? Somebody mentioned it before; ordinarily I'd think that it's unlikely, but there are enough provisions aboard that stealing from them probably wouldn't be noticed. And we know that the saboteur has tampered with the food at least once, twice if the dogs were deliberately attacked."

"Some of you need to check likely stowaway hideouts."

"If I was a stowaway, I'd try to hide somewhere I had easy access to food and water. I would not want to be seen when moving about, especially not if moving during daytime. I'd begin a search by checking such places" Olof suggests.

Part of Isugtag was rather glad that everyone around him seem to go along with his train of thoughts. What he didn't like was that the whole situation was already turning them against each other. Paranoia was already a serious thing when out and about in society. But out on the ice, cut off from everything, it would make things even worst. He closed his eyes, turning around in his hand the little pack of matches. This was bad. If they didn't catch the saboteur before they reached the pole, things could quickly degenerate. There would already be enough danger around them... worrying about a traitor amongst their midst would only make their endeavor that much more unlikely to succeed.

As other expedition members started to chip in around him, the big Inuit started to play with the little box of matches, his mind wandering far off. For a moment, he was back over the cold and white plains of the South Pole, the Miskatonic Range looming menacingly in the distance. He would surely be the first of his people to set foot on the frozen continent. He would have to work alone. The spirits of his ancestors would not be able to accompany him this far.

Isugtag nodded at Olof's comment.

“Let us finish the search first. We will make sure nothing else has been damaged, search for any hiding spots, and then lock the holds. We must be discreet in our hunt. If we are to stalk the remaining holds, we must be like shadows. This saboteur will not show himself if he knows we are expecting him.”

"I agree with Isugtag that we need to finish checking the holds but this time lock each one after checking & post a watch on each?" James poses the comment more as a question to see if there are enought people willing to stand watch.

"I do not think Callum's water suggestion is actually a bad one, we would just need to move sufficient supplies to live off into a separate lockable hold and leave the rest in plain sight with, of course, several of us hiding around keeping watch for the sabotuer then, hopefully, if the bait works we will lure the culprit in but stop them disposing of too much of the rest of the water?"

"I would sooner risk water being leaked from a tank, as long as we have sufficient to live off, than risk having any more dogs, equipment or even people attempted to be damaged or even killed. I suppose it might take some time getting replacement dogs or equipment, as Proffesor Graves mentioned, even with a wired message, so I would prefer to set bait that we could very quickly replace in Australia".

"I agree with James. If we use our fresh water as bait in our trap, we need to see that we don't destroy all fresh water we got!" Olof says.

SS Gabrielle - The Officer's Mess.
01:00pm - Thursday 28th September, 1933

The first officer shakes his head ruefully, "I'm sorry, but it doesn't work that way, we can't just 'leave some water tanks out on deck.' I understand you're not sailors, so I'll explain:"

"Our fresh water supply isn't stored in the holds, we have two fresh water tanks, and one emergency fresh water tank built into the ship's hull; they are part of the Gabrielle's ballast - although obviously they would never be discharged except in an extreme emergency."

"The tanks are filled in port through valves in the for'cstle and the quarterdeck, these valve are closed while we're at sea."

"I really do not see any way that the fresh water supply can be safely offered as a target for the saboteur - indeed I'd much rather we actively deter any effort to contaminate the tanks."

"Now I must make myself clear to you all, me 'n Captain Vredenburg are responsible for the safety of everyone on board. As such I want to catch the saboteur by any means that doesn't place the lives of those onboard in unnecessary danger, but I will not support any action that risks contamination of the ship's fresh water supply."

"Anyone who I learn has taken any action along those lines, will be detained to their quarters until we reach port, and then immediately handed over to the local police."

Jack wasn't too bothered by the fact that the water-baiting idea was being shot down. It struck him as too risky by half, and, looking about him, only a few of these fellows seemed like they'd be even remotely useful in setting and watching a trap. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd be any good either, but at least he had some sense of his own limitations. He was no Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot; he was just a nearly washed-up hack of a writer.

"Look, fellows, I think Mr. Turlow here is right. Let's conduct searches while there's still light and time, and let's leave the four and five holds unlocked at night. I'm willing to help search and keep watch, though I think we'd all need to get some rest at some point between now and next morning."

"I agree that we should search the ship for other signs of sabotage", agrees Graves.

"The Criminal has already used both acid and poison during the voyage and I suspect they have other diabolical tools stashed somewhere on board to continue their work. Perhaps we may stumble upon this stash."

Isugtag pushed himself off the wall he had been resting his back against.

"We have much to do. Let us get to work."

When they eventually leave Olof follows Jack hoping for a private chat.

James, having no idea how they are suppose to bait a trap and now understanding where their water is coming from, is more concerned that the water doesn't actually get tampered with by the culprets own desires and goes over to Mr Turlow as everyone starts to filter out of the room

"If the water is, as you say in 2 main tanks, I think that a watch should be placed over the water anyway in case the Saboteur has that idea themself? and I rested enough last night whilst the dogs were being poisoned to need much sleep tonight so I am willing to help watch wherever is needed. What would you prefer I do?"

Henrik wrote: When they eventually leave Olof follows Jack hoping for a private chat.

"Hello," Jack says. "Well, I'm not sure how much more I know than any of you, but I did talk to Turlow, and he did tell me a few things about the crew

"It's probably already clear by now, but he suspects one of us rather than one of his crew, not surprisingly. Most of the crew has been together for a while, though there are three new members of the engine crew, two of whom are experienced sailors. The messboys are also new. Fourth Officer Driscoll is also new to this ship."

He scratches his head. "Not sure that helps much, but, then again, I didn't expect Turlow to be all that much help. I was happy he gave me what information he did."

"Well, I have been wondering. What if Turlow is right? What if the saboteur is someone of us? Then all planning we did in there will be for naught since the saboteur has shared all information when we did it! I just think that we need to have that possibility in mind when we are making plans. As far as I see everyone seems to be trustworthy, but what do I know about the motives of a saboteur? He or she might have been under blackmail, believing that he or she does what he or she believes to be right or for any other million of reasons! It could be one of us! What bothers me if it is in someway linked to the strange happenings when we were in New York or if it is unrelated. If we only could determine if the death of that captain, the madman who attacked Starkweather during our introductory dinner, we might be able to limit the number of suspects."

"I just think we should carry on with the checks we were doing before, James. And seal the doors like you said, when we've done each one. Come on lets get back to it. Too much time is being wasted sitting around here." Callum stands and heads back to the hold he was searching before.

Kitt wanders up to them. She was about to go back to her room but she had a sudden idea. "Hey, if we don't find him now, let's just do a randomly assigned buddy system. You have to be with him at all times and bunks with you. Your buddy then tells on you whenever anything mysterious happened."

For some damn-fool reason, Jack blushes at Kitt's mention of bunking up. He knew she didn't mean anything by it, but still, it provoked ... unhelpful thoughts at the moment.

But the basic idea was sound. "Hey, look. If one of the expedition members is involved, then, yeah, we might all be wasting our time, or worse. But it seems to me better to assume that it's either one of the crew or some stowaway we haven't found yet. Sitting around won't help."

Kitt sighs. "Isn't this what police are for?" She's bored and frustrated and it plainly shows. "Can't we all just go to my cabin and play cards or something? If only there were whiskey..."

"Not that I'd drink them or anything," she adds, suddenly thinking of prohibition.

"Yes, this should have been a pleasurable voyage. I was looking forward to learn more about arctic survival and now we're hunting a saboteur. That's of course an interesting turn of events." Olof smiles. Playing detective is quite a challenge and if he has to admit it, fun.

SS Gabrielle - The Officer's Mess.
01:05pm - Thursday 28th September, 1933

"Callum's right I think," replies Turlow, "You're all spread pretty thin anyway. You concentrate on the holds James, I'll take care of the water - and the kitchens as well, just to be on the safe side."

"After our debate I suspect that the saboteur probably targeted the dogs deliberately anyway, so hopefully the water supply isn't a likely target."

"I won't involve anyone in the crew apart from the deck officers," Turlow scowls, "and I'll keep Fourth Officer Driscoll out of it, just in case I'm wrong."

"That still leaves three of us, enough to do the job, but few enough to be discrete."

"If the search of the holds, and using two holds as bait, doesn't turn anything up then we'll change tactics."

"ok thats fine I will continue with the holds if you think we have enough people to start with the trap etc" James nods to Mr Turlow and heads out after Callum

SS Gabrielle - #3 Tween Deck Hold.
04:30pm - Thursday 28th September, 1933

The search for further signs of sabotage doesn't take long, continuing the search of the contents of the number three tween-deck hold from where James, Callum and Isugtag had left off. The team of investigators carefully opened, examined and resealed the various crates, boxes and drums that have been palletised and stored neatly around the outside of the hold. The hatch in the centre of the hold having been left closed, but uncovered - the only thing stored in the lower hold is the massive wooden cargo ramp that is to be the first thing unloaded in Antarctica.

While examining the one of the expeditions large 'base radios' James notices signs of burning around one of the ventilation grills, possibly from acid being poured through.

Meanwhile Jack notices that the bottles of pre-mixed photographic chemicals appear to have been tampered with. Opening one and sniffing he smells the distinct smell of chorine, Jack has been around enough photographic chemicals in his time to know that that’s wrong.

Worse evidence is found up on deck though, as Olof discretely looks inside the lifeboats...


OOC:
Henrik, I've sent you a PM.

Olof checked his finding again counted over and over again. Was this indeed the correct number or was something missing? If so there could be horrible consequences for them all and the whole expedition!

PM to Jack and our keeper!

Upon hearing Olof's tale, Jack goes back with him to confirm what Olof seems to have discovered.

Very unhappy that he has found further signs of sabotage James calls the others over to show them what he has found "I think one of us should go fetch Mr Turlow or someone to show them this whilst the rest carry on searching & making sure no-one comes & tries to do more damage"

"I wonder why the Radio has been damaged though? is this so we will not be able to keep in contact once we have arrived at our destination and if so then this is different form trying to stop us arriving before anyone else dont you think?"

After investigating the situation Olof describes and finding it to be as he said, Jack goes to find Turlow to tell him the news, taking Olof with him should he wish to come.

"I'll stay here if you don't mind" Olof says. "We wouldn't want these to disappear while we went away, would we?"

The Bridge - SS Gabrielle
04:40pm - Thursday 28th September 1933

First Officer Turlow stands the four-to-eight watch, and so Jack easily locates him on the Gabrielle's bridge.

Apart from Mr Turlow, there are two other crewmembers on the bridge at the moment, quartermaster Michael Oates stands at the helm, while able-seaman Truman Cotter assists Turlow on watch.

"Mr. Turlow," Jack says, "a word in private, if I may?" He tries to convey the appropriate sense of urgency without sounding panicky.

Assuming that he can get Turlow aside, Jack tells him exactly what Olof found, noting that Olof has stayed behind, keeping an eye on things.

The Radio Room - SS Gabrielle
04:43pm - Thursday 28th September 1933

Turlow nods and leads Jack from the bridge into the radio room. He sends radio operator Robert Macllvaine out, to relieve him on the bridge.

The first mate is very concerned by news of what Olof discovered in the lifeboat, even more so when he learns that further sabotage has been discovered in the holds.

He thinks for a minute then says, "Ok Jack, this is more serious than I'd anticipated. I ought to go straight to the Captain with this news, but I'm certain that he'll just order a full search of everyone's quarters."

"That may well bring the culprit to light, but I'm concerned that he won't be dumb enough to have evidence in his cabin, so a general search could just tip him off."

Looking Jack in the eyes he says, "I propose that we stick with the stakeout plan, but concentrate on the lifeboat. This stuff is dangerous, but it isn't any use at all to the saboteur unless he can remove it from the lifeboat."

"I can't delay telling the captain for more than a couple of days though. What do you think? Do the risks outway the benefits?"

"I think we could give the stakeout a night, maybe two," Jack says. "I've been the main one saying that I didn't think our saboteur wanted to kill us, after all. But now I'm not so sure of that; there's no telling when he'll get frustrated enough.

"I'll tell Olof. He and I can watch the lifeboat in shifts for a time. We could bring the other 'watchers' in on this, too, I suppose. Gah, I'm getting paranoid myself."

James, concerned that as Jack left the hold a little while ago now & Mr Turlow still hasn't arrived, leaves the others looking through the hold and goes to see if he can locate the first officer himself. Having been infomed that he is talking to Jack in the radio room he knocks & enters.

"Mr Turlow I wondered if you needed to come & see what we have found in the hold? I see Jack here has found you so presume he has updated you on our findings?"

Decrepit wrote: "I think we could give the stakeout a night, maybe two," Jack says. "I've been the main one saying that I didn't think our saboteur wanted to kill us, after all. But now I'm not so sure of that; there's no telling when he'll get frustrated enough.

"I'll tell Olof. He and I can watch the lifeboat in shifts for a time. We could bring the other 'watchers' in on this, too, I suppose. Gah, I'm getting paranoid myself."

Turlow laughs, "Personally I'd ask the Eskimo guy and that Scottish climber Callum."

"They're both look like handy guys, and I'd say that if either one were responsible for the sabotage then your whole expedition is doomed anyway."

"It's your call though, you know who to trust better than I do..."

OrionUK wrote: Having been infomed that he is talking to Jack in the radio room he knocks & enters.

"Mr Turlow I wondered if you needed to come & see what we have found in the hold? I see Jack here has found you so presume he has updated you on our findings?"

Mr Turlow regards James with suspicion when he walks in on their conversation, but he nods when he hears what James has to say, "Yeah Jack was just telling me about the radio. I'll come and look."

He accompanies James back to the #3 Hold (OOC: I presume that Jack returns to Olof at this point), when they arrive they learn that both base radios and all four of the smaller trail radios have been similarly sabotaged.

All six radios will require replacement parts in Australia, it is fortunate that the damage was discovered now, as the expedition would be impossible without radio communications.

"What's the news on the other searches Mr. Turlow? Anything turned up there?" enquires Callum.

Olof keeps waiting for Jack or Turlow trying to look inconspicious. He looks around for a good watching place, where one can watch the lifeboat unseen.

Jack returns to Olof. "I talked to Turlow. He's in agreement that we, or soemone, should watch the boat, as that seems a likely place for the saboteur to return. He wants us to hurry it up, though, as he feels the understandable need to talk to the captain about all of this.

"Maybe we should get Callum and Isugtag in on this," Jack says, considering Turlow's words. "I don't really mind telling the others, either, I suppose. I don't think we can afford not to trust any of our own people right now. Besides, those 'supplies' you found are probably too important to the saboteur to leave there permanently. I'd suggest, though, that we work in pairs so that no one is left alone ... just in case."

#3 Tween Deck Hold - SS Gabrielle
05:00pm - Thursday 28th September 1933

Turlow remains tight lipped, "Not that I'm aware of Callum."

"The food could take days to check fully though. And I expect our friend will wait until night-time before making another move."

OOC: Sorry, you'll have to wait until Jack or Olof explain things.

"Seems as a good idea. I have a hard time seeing either Callum or Isutag as saboteurs. They seem to be professionals. Didn't Isutag work for the Canadian Mounties or something similar?"

"Yeah," Jack says. "'course, who knows anything about anybody, really?" He grins a little, making it clear--he hopes--that he was just joshing.

"Let's see about getting the others together and letting them know the circumstances. We need to be ready and to have everyone on the same page, as it were."

Graves sits quietly in the darkness keeping a close watch on the water supply, oblivious to the discoveries of his companions.

He had considered taking a flask of coffee with him to keep him warm, but had decided against this fearing the aroma may have alerted the saboteur. Besides, after the sleepless nights of trying to save the injured during The War he now required very little rest to remain alert.

Whenever Jack comes upon a member of the expedition (i.e., the PCs), he passes along this bit of information:

"Well, it seems that Olof found that our missing fuse coils, as well as a set of blasting caps, were in one of the lifeboats. Presumably, our saboteur has been stowing gear in that lifeboat, assuming that no one would disturb it. There was no dynamite.

"However, I'm told the blasting caps are in themselves dangerous, as they could destroy our planes or, worse, ignite our fuel, maybe even sink the ship.

"Mr. Turlow knows about this--we assumed that he would've had better places to hide things were he the saboteur--but the captain doesn't yet. We're going ahead with our vigils, but we--that is, Olof and I--think it'd be a good idea to get Isugtag and Callum to watch this particular lifeboat."

"Well! That's quite a find. Those caps are extremely dangerous, even on their own. I'll definately come in on the stake out with you both. Maybe we should see Turlow about getting some of the fire arms out, just in case." says Callum "Lets just hope the dynamite never shows up....."

That Night...

Frustratingly the night passes without any saboteur falling into one of the traps.

The following day (Friday 29th September, 1933)

During a short chat with Turlow in the morning, the first officer suggests that the same plan be followed for one more night before he goes to the Captain, "Those detonators can't do any harm so long as they're in the lifeboat. Our little friend is sure to go there sooner or later, he's probably being cautious after poisoning the dogs. It's a few days before we can make port after all."

The checking of the number three hold is completed on Friday, it took a full day of backbreaking work, but fortunately nothing else appears to have been sabotaged. Work will begin checking the number one hold tomorrow.

On the Boat Deck - SS Gabrielle
02:14am - Saturday 30th September 1933

Everybody settles into position again on Friday night, nothing happens for hours, the decks are completely deserted except for the occasional crewmember walking about, or smoking a cigarette. None of these nocturnal crew members do anything even remotely suspicious.

Then, in the dead of night as Callum settles down for a short rest and Isugtag watches the lifeboat, a shadowy figure moves stealthily to the boat.

Isugtag nudges Callum to rouse him, and points quietly towards the shadows. The figure looks around for any sign that he is being observed, then reaches for the lifeboat's tarpaulin, switching on a flashlight as he does so.

The sudden flare of illumination from the torch briefly ruins the two investigators' night vision, but after blinking away the afterimage from their eyes, Callum and Isugtag both recognise the face of Adam Scott - the other messboy - as he reaches into the lifeboat.


On the Quarterdeck - SS Gabrielle
02:14am - Saturday 30th September 1933

From where they crouch on the quarterdeck overlooking the #4 & #5 hold Jack and Olof spot the feint glow of torchlight near to the lifeboats. James and McRaven are asleep under blankets an arms reach away.


On the Forecastle - SS Gabrielle
02:14am - Saturday 30th September 1933

Professor Graves and Sean couch in the shadows watching the valves of the freshwater tanks, nothing has happened here all night, both are blissfully unaware of events towards the Gabrielle's stern.


Cabin 12 - SS Gabrielle
02:14am - Saturday 30th September 1933

After another fun evening of cards with Greene and the Sorensen brothers, Miss Kitt Knight lays fast asleep in her bunk, a pulpy romantic novel is on the bed beside her and she dreams happily of long flights over the ice fields of Antarctic, with hunky doctors, rugged explorers, and of course cynical newspaper reporters.

Jack tries quietly to nudge James and McRaven awake. With gestures and looks, Jack tries to suggest to Olof that they take a wait-and-see approach. He fears that any attempt by Olof or him to "help" at this point would do more harm than good, unless it becomes clear that the trap is sprung or the men can't handle it alone.

Olof nods in agreement. His pulse is beginning to speed up. How would have thought that he, a mining engineer on his way on a scientific expedition, would be involved in a cat and mouse game with a suspected saboteur? This is exciting indeed!

Callum signals to Isugtag, with hand gestures, that they should attempt to surround Scott in a kind of pincer movement. Quietly he moves away, gun in hand (but no round chambered), towards the lurking saboteur....

On the Boat Deck - SS Gabrielle
02:14am - Saturday 30th September 1933

Isutag nods in understanding and begins circling Scott's position in the opposite direction, his shotgun readied.


OOC: Ghost / Mr Juan: Please make a sneak test each on invisible castle, your character sheets are here (Callum) and here (Isugtag). I'll roll for Isutag myself if Mr Juan doesn't get chance before I post again tonight. Note that these are opposed roll (countered by Scott's listen skill), so you won't know if you've succeeded until my next post.

As the night has settled down, Isugtag had found himself returning back to his normal self. Although he was far from behind surrounded by some heavy forest canopy, or the icy cold winds of the tundra, behind out under the starts made him feel at ease. He had gotten used to the regular rowing of the boat, and was now quite keen on letting himself being gently rocked back and forth.

The first night had been without any incidents... which was both a good and a bad thing. But Isugtag was a hunter, used to waiting for his prey for days on end. Like a deer to water, the saboteur would come sooner or later.

The Inuit knew he wouldn't have to wait much longer when his trained eyes caught movement on the deck. No one was supposed to be out here... especially not at this hour.

Rising to his feet slowly, Isugtag simply nodded to Callum and began moving toward Scott. He held the shotgun in both hands, it's steel and wooden frame feeling cold.

On the Boat Deck - SS Gabrielle
02:15am - Saturday 30th September 1933

Callum and Isugtag converge on Scott from two directions at once. On one side Isutag moves with the confidence of an experienced hunter, gliding silently across the Gabrielle's deck, meanwhile Callum cringes at the sounds of his own footsteps, sure that the saboteur will hear his approach. Scott though is so intent on his own clandestine activities that he does not seem to notice and continues to rummage under the lifeboat's tarpaulin.

A moment later, as he turns back from the lifeboat holding the box full of blasting caps, Scott is shocked to find himself facing the levelled firearms of the two explorers. All colour drains from the young man's face; he glances subconsciously down at the box of detonators and then back up at the two men confronting him.

OOC:
Sorry I meant to roll this on invisible castle from home, but forgot to:
Adam Scott - Listen Check - Does he hear Callum or Isugtag? = [90%]

"Ok lad. Slowly kneel down, and push those boxes put in front of you. Dont give my friend here a reason to shoot you." threatens Callum "He was only just saying to me, how he's looking forward to doing a spot of hunting again too, so please dont try to run. After all there's nowhere to go on a boat, is there?"

Creeping toward Scott, Isugtag started to slowly feel the thrill of the hunt gain on him. He had hunted, many times, not games, but men; men on the run who believed they could hide out in the wilderness. This hunt was no different from the others; his duty was to protect the members of the expedition. What had been probably intended as nothing more than an honorary title, had now turned into a full fledge job.

As the soft sole of his boots slid along the polished deck, Grey Wolf felt like a mere shadow in the night. Feeling Scott suddently tense up to turn around, he rapidly raised his shotgun toward the messboy's face.

When Callum spoke, Isugtag didn't bat an eye. His whole attention was focused at the end of the barrel. He knew his fellow mountaineer had a much smoother tongue, and so, he simply held his.

Only when Callum mentioned him looking for a bit of sport did Isugtag grunt.
It could have been a muffled laugh thougth...

On the Boat Deck - SS Gabrielle
02:15am - Saturday 30th September 1933

Callum wrote: ...so please dont try to run...

Scott seems to be thinking of doing exactly that; his eyes dart furtively from side to side as seeks a means of escape.

The muzzle of Isugtag's shotgun so close to his face is a powerful deterrent though, Scott stares desperately into the Inuit's brown eyes and he does not like what he see's there at all. Unable to hold Isugtag's gaze, Scott's eyes drift across the long scars that mark his face and finally back to the muzzle of the shotgun.

By the time Callum has finished talking Scott has made up his mind, slowly he places the box of blasting caps onto the deck in front of him.


OOC:
Scott's apparent physical stats: STR:12, SIZ:11, DEX:13, APP:10.
(I should have posted these earlier)

Olof remains hidden but he is trying to get a glance of whatever is happening.

Jack, noting that Olof is staying put, decides to do the same until the situation is resolved. No need to blunder in to anything delicate.

"Well done boy. Now stay calm, lie down on the deck and put your hands on the back of your head please." As an extra incentive Callum pokes Scott in the back, with the barrel of his gun, and urges him down to the floor.

Assuming that some of the other expedition members are within earshot, Callum shouts out for someone to bring some handcuffs or rope to restrain the young 'saboteur'.

James slowly stirs from his sleep & suddenly becomes wide awake, once the knowledge that someone has shouted reaches his senses, he sits up & say's "whats going on?"

Sean looks at his wrist to check for a time, but realizes he doesn't have a watch. Whats it matter anyway? It's late, and he knows it. The weight of his eyelids attempt to cover his vision in further darkness. However the small chance of an arrival and the adrenaline keep him awake. He let's out a light yawn.

"This, is dreadfully a bore, heh"

"Wonder if the others have come upon the vermin setting us up..."

Noticing his companion's yawns Graves whispers, "you get some sleep, I'll wake you if I spot anything."

The Professor had never really expected the saboteur to target the water but wasn't willing to take the chance. Oblivious to the happenings elsewhere on the ship he keeps his eyes peeled for any sign of movement in the darkness.

Jack goes to see whether he can find any rope or other form of restraint.

At the very moment Scott laid down on the floor, Isugtag was on top of him.
Literally.
With one hand, he held his shotgun, barrel pointed off and to the side where it wouldn't hurt anyone if it went off. His other, now free, large paw went behind Scott's neck where it firmly held him down, while one of his knee held him pinned to the floor. The messboy wasn't scrawny par se, but the big Inuit was probably three time his size and strenght.

Helding their captive pinned to the floor Isugtag looked up toward Callum, giving him a respectful nod.
Tonight, they had done a fine job.

Sean gives a brief smirk. he whispers.

"Thanks Chap, but I think it's best the both of us keep an eye out, I'm not so much tired, almost like I'm hoping something happens so this will all be over.

Jack apparently has little trouble finding rope--rope? on a ship?--and makes a quick presentation of it to the men holding Scott. "Here you go, fellows. I'm going to see about finding Mr. Turlow."

OoC: Jack wheels away and heads off unless someone--besides the prisoner--objects.

Olof smiles although he feels a bit sorry for the poor prisoner for a moment. Those thoughts disappear when he looks at the lifeboat. If this is indeed the saboteur they might have saved this expedition from further disaster. He then follows Jack to find Mr. Turlow.

Sean quirks an ear upward and hears noise coming from the deck.

Something is happening on deck, I say we go check it out Professor...

Sean stands from his seated position.

By the time Sean and Professor Graves have made their way onto the Boat Deck, Jack and Olof are returning with Mr Turlow. The first officer is absolutely furious to learn that all evidence points to one of his crew being the saboteur, rather than one of the expedition members.

The disgraced Scott will be secured in his quarters until the SS Gabrielle reaches port, after which he will be handed over to the authorities. Unfortunately the Gabrielle has neither a brig, nor any spare cabins at the moment so Turlow assures everyone that one member of crew will guard Scott at all times.

A search of Scott's quarters provides additional evidence that he really is the saboteur, his personal items include: a much-folded copy of Starkweather's original expedition announcement, neatly clipped out of the New York Times; two carefully stoppered glass bottles of clear liquid, one full, the other all but empty, both clearly labelled "Sulphuric Acid - Extremely Poisonous - Do Not Swallow" and a telegram, sent by a Chicago Wire Service, offering Scott $250 for his exclusive eyewitness account of the voyage of the SS Gabrielle.

There is no sign of any powdered strychnine however, and Scott hasn't uttered a single word since his capture, choosing instead to stare sullenly at his captors.

Captain Vredenburg, Starkweather and Professor Moore are soon informed of Scott's capture. Moore and Vredenburg are delighted that the saboteur has been caught at last though the cooperation of Mr Turlow and members of the expedition. Starkweather rages for a while, in his opinion confinement to his quarters is far too lenient on the "Bloody Traitor," and he should be either keelhauled or hung, or at the very least set adrift in a lifeboat.

He soon calms down though, and heartily slaps Callum and Isugtag on their backs, "I knew you chaps had the right stuff, eh!"

"Bloody good show, I suppose hanging is going a little too far, but at least you two chaps put the frighteners on that little bastard!"

Jack was happy about how things had turned out, but questions were still in his mind. Did Scott use all the strychnine? If not, where was the rest of it? Did he have any helpers or sympathizers on board?. Most serious of all: Why? The fellow was going to get a nice paycheck on top of his pay. Why put the expedition at risk, or even stop it, under those circumstances?. Jack would have much preferred a confession to the stone silence that Scott was offering. In lieu of a reasonable motive and an accounting of all the contaminants, Jack was inclined to keep on edge. But now wasn't the moment to share those thoughts aloud, especially not in front of Scott. If there was someone else helping him, better for Scott to think that everyone believed the sabotage was over. Jack hoped it was, but he was too skeptical to be sure.

Olof is happy that the saboteur is caught and that things might go back to the normal routine. A bit dull perhaps, but Olof wants to take every chance he can to prepare for the ice and cold of Antarctica.

Graves agrees with McRaven that Jack and Isugtag would be an ideal choice of 'good cop/bad cop'.

"With my training in psychology and psychoanalysis, I would like to sit quietly in the background during the interrogation to see if I can discover anything further about the prisoner's state of mind and whether he is answering the questions truthfully."

Although he hadn't really spoken to anyone since Scott's capture, Isugtag knew very well that it hadn't put everyone quite at ease. It had affected the crew in general, since the saboteur had turned out to be one of their own, and most of the expedition members still had trouble grasping the “why”. He hadn't quite understood what the search of his cabin had turned up, until Jack had taken his time to explain it to him.

With Lawrence's and the Captain's death back in New York, there was now simply too much in play for him not to get to the bottom of this.

After getting a rather rapid approval from Starkweather, Isugtag had taken Jack aside. In his usual “straight to the point with a few word” english, he suggested that they both go and “interrogate” Scott.

Kitt, confused and a little nervous, starts asking around for Jack - her one calm port in this crazy storm.

Mister Juan wrote:After getting a rather rapid approval from Starkweather, Isugtag had taken Jack aside. In his usual “straight to the point with a few word” english, he suggested that they both go and “interrogate” Scott.

"Me?" Jack says. "Well, I suppose I could help. I've asked some tough questions before, I suppose, but I'm no copper." He takes an appraising look at Isugtag. "But with you around, I suppose Scott will talk if he's going to." He grins.

Captain Vredenburg agrees to one or two of the expedition members interviewing Scott, "Anything to get to the bottom of this mess..." He does however insist that Mr Turlow or one of the officers be present throughout the interview.

*****

Kitt finds Jack chatting with Isugtag and Professor Graves, apparently they are about to go and interrogate Scott.

Kitt waves as she approaches them. "Well, looks like there's somebody to question... Its swell! You settled on the interrogation routine yet? Remember, the interrogators control where the suspect sits, when he eats, drinks or goes to the toilet... Control the routine and you control the person."

Jack smiles wryly at the proffered advice. He considers disabusing her of her illusions about police work but opts instead for a warmer "Well, I'll keep that in mind."

When Kitt approached them, Isugtag immediately had something resembling a frown on his face. It wasn't that he had something against women... far from that. He was simply a bit suspicious of them; they had a tendency to have men do stupid things. The moment when he did definitely get a frown on his face was when she decided to “advise” them on how they should go about their interrogation. The big Inuit, his head almost reaching the ceiling, made something akin to a grunt (or maybe it was more like growl...), then simply turned around and started to make his way to Scott's “holding cell”.

He would let Jack do most of the talking, simply because he wasn't sure he could follow along...
But he already had a plan of his own.

Olof would have enjoyed partaking in the interrogation, but he would probably only be in the way. "Too many cooks spoils the soup" as his mother used to say. Olof decided that it was time to go back to his cabin perhaps to do some further reading. There was always details about the Peabody drill that could be repeated.

Kitt just smiles, blissfully unaware of Isugtag's feelings. "So who's interrogating him today?"

"I think that falls to me," Jack says. "They seem to think I can ask good, tough questions. Maybe they ought to check with my editor about that.

"Anyhow, Isugtag's there to supply the 'muscle,' which I hope we won't need. I'm betting this fellow really wants to talk; most fellows with axes to grind do."

Graves stands by the "holding cell" door with Isugtag waiting for Jack to join them.

He takes a sip of tea and places the cup back onto the china saucer he holds in his left hand.

He looks up at the imposing Inuit. "You don't mind me sitting quietly at the back do you old chap?" he says quietly. "I have some experience in analysing psychotics."

Isugtag bowed his head at Graves in what could best be described as curt. The big Inuit respected the man greatly, and having him around did make him feel a bit nervous.

Undoing the lock on Scott's door, Isugtag pushed it open and was the first to step inside the small cabin. As he crossed the door, he had to slightly hunch down not to hit his head, making him seem even bigger than he actually was. His large boots made a menacing “thump” sound with every step as he took position next to one of the walls, using it to rest his back. He crossed his arms across his chest, their muscles showing under his rolled up shirt's sleeves.

Isugtag was hoping that his menacing presence and Jack's questions would be enough to get the information they were looking for. If Jack's wit wasn't enough... then the big Inuit would have to be a little more than just a “presence”.

As Isugtag, Jack, Graves and Turlow step into the small cabin, Scott sits casually on the bunk, the look on the messboy's face can only be described as smug, certainly not what you'd expect of a young man destined to spend the next few years behind bars. When the big Inuit steps into the cabin, Scott's smug smile wavers for a moment, Isugtag overpowered him effortlessly on deck the night before.

Albert Webb a burly member of the engine crew stands watch inside the cabin, he steps outside in response to Turlow's nod. Turlow looks scornfully at Scott, "You can wipe that grin off your face boy. The captain's radioed ahead, I hope you like jail food."

"I've brought some friends who'd like a word with you. I believe you met Isugtag earlier."

Once everyone had entered the small cabin, Isugtag grabbed a small wooden chair and placed it in the center of the room.

He looked straight at Scott.

"Sit." was all he grunted.

Jack looked around him and then at Scott. He hoped that he looked less nervous than he felt. He'd asked some hard questions, sure, but he wasn't a copper, and he'd never really been in a situation where his life might depend on the answers. He found a chair and sta down backwards on it, tipped his hat back, and, like some dime-novel detective, began to ask his questions.

Kitt goes to find Doctor Greene for a game of cards.

Graves takes a seat in the corner of the cramped cabin; he takes another sip of his tea then places the cup by the side of his chair. Taking out a small notebook and a pencil the professor begins making notes, looking up every few seconds to study Scott's face. Officer Turlow takes up position just inside the door, by the side of Graves.

"You look awfully smug for someone in a heap of trouble." Jack leans forward on his chair-back looking levelly into Scott's eyes, while slightly behind him Isugtag stares menacingly at the messboy. Scott continues to grin smugly, he says nothing.

Jack spends several minutes listing the various acts of sabotage which all now point to Scott as the culprit. He starts with the poisoning of the expedition dogs - were the dogs the real target, or did Scott hope to murder expedition members?
Next: the sabotage of the reefer store, Scott's own cabin-mate and colleague Henning was almost killed by the ammonia fumes.
All of the sabotaged equipment in the cargo holds, Jack is careful not to reveal exactly what has been found, hoping that Scott may accidentally reveal further acts of sabotage.
And the blasting caps and fuses, the fuses were stolen back in New York, was Scott responsible for all of the problems that occurred in New York, did he write those threatening letters? Perhaps he murdered Captain Douglas as well?
The blasting caps themselves were stolen from the reefer store; Scott must have used Turlow's keys to gain access, what was he planning use the blasting caps for? Merely to damage more equipment, or did he plan to gain access to the dynamite as well?
Is Scott acting alone, or does he have accomplices? Perhaps from one of the rival expeditions?

Throughout all of this Scott does not say a word, he just smiles constantly and neither confirms nor denies any involvement in any of the acts that Jack accuses him of.

Midway through the questioning, Isugtag stands up and moves close to Scott. Bending down to stare menacingly into Scott's eyes the powerful Inuit slowly takes off his vest and rolls up his sleeves during Jack's next few unanswered questions. A single bead of sweat rolling slowly down Scott's forehead is the only outward sign that the young man is intimidated. His grin wavers slightly, but clearly he hopes that Isugtag is bluffing or that Turlow will intervene.

Those hopes are dashed when Scott remains silent for Jack's final questions. Isugtag grabs Scott's shirt with his left hand, slamming his right fist into Scott's face three times.

"No ones going to help you out here Adam," Jack's voice is level despite Isugtag's violence, "my friend wanted to beat you to a pulp, but I said we should be civilised first."

"Starkweather wants to hang you. I think he's mad enough to do it."

Turlow stands impassively by the doorway; perhaps he'll intervene if the beating gets too bad, but for now the tough first officer is content to stand and watch.

Graves too says nothing; he merely raises an eyebrow and continues to write notes.

When Isugtag raises his fist a fourth time, Scott shakes his head, "No, stop. Please. No more"

Scott's face is already beginning to swell under his left eye, and the smug grin has gone. Blood drips from a split in his lower lip. Isugtag retains his grip on Scott's shirt as the messboy tells his story.

<<To be continued...>>

<<I'll write more later today, it's the end of lunchtime now, so work's intervened for now>>

"No more..."

"Jesus that hurts, ok I'll tell you. Yeah I damaged the reefer, and poisoned the dogs, and did the stuff in the holds."

"I didn't mean to hurt Henning, just spoil the food. And I don't know nothing about the Douglas murder."

"I just wanted to stop the expedition, some guy got in touch with me in New York, back when Starkweather first announced the expedition, offered me a lot of money to stop it reaching the ice, embarrass Starkweather. Said that Starkweather must be stopped, or people would die."

"I've read about Starkweather's other expeditions, if you had you'd know the guy was right."

"Leave the ship in Australia, before it’s too late."

Scott stops talking again, he looks rather calm, despite his apparent desperation to avoid a beating earlier.

As Jack considers what to ask next, Graves says, "Could you chaps join me outside for a second? Mr Turlow can watch the prisoner."

*********************************

When they're all outside the professor says, "I was studying Scott closely during the questioning, I don't think he's phychotic, but the man is clearly a fanatic."

"Before Isugtag started beating him, he appeared to be resigned to it - I think that he knew exactly what was coming."

"This story of his, I think that it's almost all true, but there's something more. Clearly there is something personal between him and Starkweather, more than just reading reports of Starkweather's expeditions."

"The press seem to love the buffoon anyway," Graves smiles at Jack, "present company excepted."

Graves shakes his head, "No there is something else, something personal that Scott is quite fanatical about, revenge perhaps? And I doubt that the truth can be beaten out of him."

"Doubtless Scott's mysterious New York benefactor knew of this and picked Scott by hand."


OOC: As Graves can't post during the week, and as he got some very good skill roll results, I've posted for him as an NPC.

"If it can't be beaten out of him, what might do the trick? Anything?" Jack asks Graves.

"Maybe there's nothing to do now but to keep him confined and hope that he's telling the truth about being responsible for the sabotage. If his contact is Lexington, we'll know soon enough."

The professor nods, "Yes, sooner or later we'll get to the bottom of this business with Miss Lexington."

"I suspect that Scott may be using an assumed identity," Graves looks at Jack and Isugtag in turn, "You two gentlemen have contacts in law enforcement and amongst the press, might it be possible for you to learn through them who exactly our Adam Scott really is, and what his grudge with Mister Starkweather is all about?"


OOC: I posted this for Charles Graves, based on an SMS message he sent me - Raiko.

Sean scribbles down notes on the happenings and begins trying to figure on what could be going on. The puzzle is a heavy distraction from the expedition. So much so that the atmosphere lacks any sort of excitement over the entire trip to the ice.

Whispering to himself...
"I'm sure this Lexington is in on this, but I can't help but feel something bigger is at hand..."

Releasing a sigh, Sean looks up, rubs his eyes and then back down at his pad of paper.

Charles Graves wrote:The professor nods, "Yes, sooner or later we'll get to the bottom of this business with Miss Lexington."

"I suspect that Scott may be using an assumed identity," Graves looks at Jack and Isugtag in turn, "You two gentlemen have contacts in law enforcement and amongst the press, might it be possible for you to learn through them who exactly our Adam Scott really is, and what his grudge with Mister Starkweather is all about?"

"I suppose we could try that, professor," Jack says, "although I'm not sure where we'd even begin. We can maybe pick apart his alias, anyway, if that's what it is."

Saturday 30th September, 1933

Jack, Isugtag and Graves step back into the cabin and spend the next few hours continuing the interrogation.

Despite the beating that he takes from Isugtag though, Scott divulges little additional information. He admits that he thinks his shadowy New York employer is either Alicia Lexington or somebody close to her, but it turns out that he never met them in person, and so it's hardly evidence of criminal activities on Lexington's part.

He clearly intensely dislikes Captain James Starkweather, but no amount of pain convinces him to divulge to reasons for his hatred. The saboteur also refuses to speak about exactly what items of equipment he damaged, but he does admit that he threw the rest of his powdered strychnine overboard after poisoning the dogs.

The only concrete thing to come out of the rest of the interview is that by the end all three investigators are convinced that Adam Scott is his real name, something that will perhaps make it easier for Jack and Isugtag's contacts back home to learn the origin of his grudge.

Afterwards Captain Vredenburg, James Starkweather and Professor Moore listen intently to the information that the trio have obtained. After much discussion the Captain asks that they spend one more day trying to obtain further information from Scott, after which he will be keep out of contact with anyone other than his guards until the Gabrielle is in port. The captain explains that he has been in touch with the authorities in Melbourne, and Scott will be arrested immediately upon docking, "I informed them the lad got roughed up a bit during resisting his capture. They were understanding obviously, but all the same, I want the prisoner left alone for the last few days of the voyage."

Asked whether he knows of Scott from some past adventure Starkweather shakes his head, "I've honestly never met the man before in my life prior to this expedition."

Jack wires back to his newspaper in New York to see whether they can find some connection between Starkweather and the saboteur.

Sunday 31st September, 1933

The investigation of the cargo holds is completed during the following morning, James and Olof discover that all three of the 300 Watt Camp Generators in the Number-One Hold have been damaged by acid being poured into their oil ports. Ten of the expedition's thirty oxygen tanks are also found to be empty, due to their valves being slightly loosened.

Faced with the option of yet another beating from Isugtag, Scott admits causing all of the damage, but says little else. He looks sullen now for the first time, Graves suggests that he doubtless believed that some of his sabotage would go unnoticed until it was too late.

Tuesday 2nd October, 1933

Two days later on the morning of the 2nd, Jack receives a wire back from his newspaper; apparently during a small expedition into the Swiss Alps led by James Starkweather in 1921, a twenty five year old climber named Allan Scott of Yale University fell over 300 feet down a crevice to his death. Among Allan Scott's surviving relatives was his younger brother Adam (21).

When asked about this news Scott flies into a rage, ranting about Starkweather's incompetence, and again warning all within earshot to leave this expedition "before it's too late."

Starkweather himself doesn't even remember the name Allan Scott at all, he remembers one of the mountaineers in that expedition dying in a fall, but not their name. "Well mountains are dangerous places you know Jack, one slip and that's it. That's why I've only brought along the best for this trip, I expect this Scott was a rather careless type."

"So you think that young Scott harboured a grudge for all these years, until that damned Lexington Woman made contact with him?"

Wednesday 3rd October, 1933

Stormy weather on the 3rd and 4th of October slow the SS Gabrielle's progress, it is doubtful now that she will make port in Melbourne earlier than the 10th.


Monday 8th October, 1933

The Gabrielle comes in sight of the Eastern coast of Australia at last. It's a long voyage around the coast to Melbourne, but after the trials and events of the Pacific voyage everybody takes the opportunity to celebrate.

Sailing along the Australian coast toward Melbourne in the middle of October is a treat indeed after a long stretch at sea. Just as North America is turning from summer into autumn, Australia is turning from a mild winter into a warming spring. The coast of New South Wales is a delight to the eyes. Mixed stands of conifers and broad-leafed trees march up gentle hills into the heights of the Great Divide Range. Forests are broken up by small areas of grassland, and the coast is dotted with thriving towns and cities.

News reaches the Gabrielle that afternoon that the Lexington Expedition's ship the SS Tallahassee has docked in Hobart, Tasmania to resupply prior to continuing south. Predictably Starkweather leaves the celebrations at this point, he is convinced that all of Scott's sabotage was perpetrated in the service of Alicia Lexington, and the news that the heiress' expedition is still days ahead is not well received.

For the first time news also reaches the Gabrielle of the German Barsmeier-Falken Expedition. Led by Dr Klaus Falken and Josef Barsmeier; financed by a consortium of private industrial interests including DELAG (the German Airship Company) and the Junkers company and operating with the full support of the German government, the Barsmeier-Falken Expedition will conduct aerial mapping of the Weddell Quadrant of Antarctica.

The expedition's support ship the SS Wilhelmina left port in Germany in early September and is now deep in the South Atlantic, she is expected to reach Deception Island in the Antarctic Archipelago within the next week or two.

The expedition will be making use of the airship the Graf Zeppelin which will join the Wilhelmina at Deception Island several days later. The airship is due to depart Germany on the 14th and will be making a single refuelling stop at Rio de Janeiro enroute. The SS Wilhelmina has been specially modified with a Zeppelin anchor mast to allow her to support airship operations.

Thursday 11th October, 1933

As the Gabrielle rounds Cape Howe, the sea turns choppy and a cold hard wind drives idlers below decks. With the islands of Tasmania to port, the ship struggles all days through the Bass Straits and around the Wilson Promontory.

Eventually as evening falls the Gabrielle sits at anchor a few miles outside the entrance to the Port Victoria bay, a narrow and extremely dangerous passage known locally as "The Rip." Large ships passing in or out of the bay must follow a precise and winding route through the rocks and surging currents of The Rip, a hazardous operation that requires the knowledge of a local pilot. Arrangements have been made by radio for a pilot to come out to the Gabrielle at first light.

<<I'll be posting some more tonight...>>

Olof is really amazed by the gentle weather. Although he is well aware of the reversed seasons on the southern hemisphere it is still a marvel to behold. Weather like this in October!

Port Melbourne - Port Phillips Bay, Victoria, Australia
3:30pm - Friday 12th October, 1933

At first light on the 12th a sea pilot is ferried out to the anchored SS Gabrielle from the Queenscliff Pilot Station. Once he is aboard the anchors are raised and the Gabrielle makes her way carefully through the Rip under his expert guidance, navigating carefully through the maze of rocks and reefs using the few channels sufficiently deep enough to allow her passage.

The trip takes several hours, and the Gabrielle passes many local trawlers and scallop boats. Eventually the ship emerges safely through the narrows and into Port Phillips bay itself, as she sails north through the bay the seaport of Port Melbourne comes into view to the north, on the mouth of the Yarra River, with Melbourne itself sitting beyond, past the faint pall of industrial smoke that hangs over the habour.

After the rough seas of the brass straight, and the treacherous narrows of the Rip, Port Phillips Bay is like a clam and placid inland sea. Forty miles wide and thirty miles deep, the bay is one of the few natural harbours in Australia, and is the largest and most protected natural harbour in the world.

The waters off Port Melbourne are crowded with traffic. Huge merchant ships and cargo barges are loaded with boxes and barrels, trawlers unload their catches, passengers queue to embark on ferries and pleasure steamers, the wharves are dark with the motion of dock hands, ship's crews, fishermen and many others. Just beyond the wharves are the rail lines, with engines and boxcars full of cargo, waiting to loaded onto the waiting ships, or steaming away from the harbour. Even out in the deep water those aboard the approaching Gabrielle can clearly hear constant wall of sound. The air is filled with aromas, of the salt water, the freshly unloaded fish and the fumes from the factories lined up behind the port's masses of warehouses.

As the Gabrielle is piloted toward her berth, a myriad collection of smaller craft dart and wheel past her, from sleek and expensive pleasure yachts, to small local boats, trawlers, barges and steam ferries, transporting goods and travellers between the bayside towns that line the banks of Port Phillips Bay.

As the ship finally approaches her berth, the explorers can see a large crowd of people lining the docks, waiting for a glimpse of the famous expedition. When the gangway is lowered, the crowd surges forwards, amid the flash of photographers' bulbs and shouted questions. People around the world have followed the story of sabotage and intrigue aboard the SS Gabrielle with avid interest, listening to Captain Starkweather's daily radio broadcasts on their wirelesses, and reading the wired reports of Jack Wilson in their morning newspapers. This is the first opportunity for the world's press to interview expedition members since their departure from New York a month ago, and journalists from around the world have converged on Melbourne, eager for the chance of exclusives.

A dark enclosed van can be seen on the far side of the crowd, and several tan-uniformed police officers are the first to ascend the gangplank, as Adam Scott is brought down to meet them, his arms gripped tightly by Turlow and a particularly burly engine-hand.

As the lawmen lead a handcuffed Scott away, Starkweather is the next down the ramp, ready to meet with his adoring public. Somehow, despite the stress of the voyage, the unending diet of tinned food and pemmican, and the faint aroma of ammonia that even now pervades the ship, Captain James Starkweather still manages to look well-groomed, cool and eager for adventure.

Starkweather descends the gang plank and is immediately surrounded by newsmen, obviously in his favourite element.

"Tell us about the bomb, Captain!"

"Why d'you suppose the fellah'd want to stop you going south?"

"Was his brother as crazy as he was?"

"Did you know the man Captain Starkweather?"

"Did he put up a fight?"

Starkweather grins his famous grin and holds out a hand, "Now gentlemen, please! One at a time! There is not so much to tell I'm afraid - but this is not the first time that I have faced tragedy you know..."

As Starkweather speaks the investigators notice that other expedition members are quietly slipping down to the pier and away while the reporters flock around Starkweather. The departees are eager for a bath, a hot meal and a soft bed. This would probably be a good time to do the same thing.

Olof is happy to come ashore again for what feels like an eternity on board the ship. He quickly tries to find Jack or Dr. Greene those that he has bonded most closely to, since they have been sharing the same cabin, but he is not adverse to exploring Melbourne in the company of others either. "How long will we be staying here? Is there something we need for the trip ahead? I would enjoy a glass of something strong and perhaps a cigar as well. "

To no one in particular Callum mutters "That Starkers is just full of it......"

He then locates Isugtag and mentions something that's been worrying him.

"I've been thinking about the ship's security a bit. Now that we've reached port, everything is going to get hectic. There's going to be people everywhere. I dont think we should let anyone, that we dont already know, onto the Gabrielle. We need to minimize the risks to the expedition, because if anything happens to the supplies or dogs or anything else from now on, it could kill us all."

Kitt lounges about on deck as though she had just been on the most refreshing holiday. She pens another letter to add to the thirty or so she has already written, and cheerfully bugs the crew in hopes that she might go ashore so that she might post them. Once she has finally been assured that, yes, she has permission, she tries to find either Greene or Jack to escort her through the throng of reporters. She thinks she might go dancing tonight, though she's not much of a dancer. Perhaps one of the young Australian men with their charming accents count enchant her throughout the night?

Kitt spots Richard Greene dashing down the gang plank to catch up with Olof. She hasn't spotted Jack yet.

Starkweather is still keeping all of the reporters occupied, so she should be able to slip past easily to catch up with Olof and Greene

*****************

Down below Greene calls out to Olof as he runs up behind him, "Hey Olof! Wait!"

"You weren't heading into town without me were you?"

Olof wrote:"How long will we be staying here? Is there something we need for the trip ahead? "

"I heard Starkweather saying that we'll be here until the 18th probably. All of the stuff's on order, but it's a lot for the local vendors to handle at short notice."

"The legal stuff will take a few days as well, apparently the local cops want to talk with anyone involved in Scott's arrest, or with uncovering the sabotage."

Olof wrote:I would enjoy a glass of something strong and perhaps a cigar as well. "

The doctor grins, "Now you're talkin', I hear these Australian guys like their drink, so there should be a few good bars!" Greene laughs heartily, "And no federal agents trying to spoil the fun."

Looking back toward the ship Greene asks, "Have you seen Jack or Kitt? I'm sure they'd be up for a little party. Those Sorenson boys are fun as well, or Gunnar is at least, but I heard they're planning to keep watch on the ship."

*****************

Ghost_1971 wrote:He then locates Isugtag and mentions something that's been worrying him.

On the boat deck, before he can track down Isugtag, Callum bumps into Nils Sorenson and learns that the brothers have the same feelings as him about security.

Once the ship pulled into port James spirits lifted slightly, they had made it this far which he was beginning to worry that some of them might not. James was looking forward to seeing what the night life would be like here but knew he had to keep a clear head until he had spoken to the local police.

Jack makes an effort to slip away from the other reporters, as he feels he has no need to hear again--in a more self-aggrandizing, less-factual way, Starkweather's pontifications on the Scott capture and the general goings-on. If his editor wants a story, Jack can always come up with something.

He's not exactly sanguine about everyone leaving the ship, given their recent experiences, and he looks for Isugtag or someone else just to check up on things. Jack would very much like to be ashore for a while, rather than crouched in the dark in some hold waiting for more sabotage, but he's also not fond of dying, either. Shifts of some sort would seem to be in order, just as a precaution.

"Greene!" cries Kitt, rushing down in her low-heels toward him. She wears one of her best dresses though it is certainly not flash enough for a nightclub. She runs down cheerfully and clasps him by the elbows. "Let's go do things that are fun!"

"No, I have not seen Jack but I was looking for him? Has he gone ashore perhaps?" When Kitt arrives, Olof nods in her direction as a greeting. With Kitt and Dr. Greene re-united again, Olof will be playing the role of the fifth wheel. "By the way, I just remembered something. Apparently Sweden and New Zealand or was it Australia is on opposite sides of the Earth? I have actually come almost as far as it's possible from my homeland!"

SME Expedition Office – SS Gabrielle – Port Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
11:00am – Monday 16th October, 1933

The last four days have passed by peacefully. Various members of the expedition have been asked to make statements to the local police regarding what they know of Scott’s activities, repairs to the reefer store – started by Olof whilst at sea – have been completed, and the replacement food and equipment ordered by Starkweather over the radio has begun to arrive. Apart from one hiccup there seems to be none of the farce this time that accompanied the supply of equipment in New York; the supplier Starkweather chose to order the 300 Watt generators from is not capable of supplying such powerful generators and tries to provide twice as many 150 Watt generators instead.

Moore deals with the problem though, and suitable replacement generators are purchased from the same vendor as the replacement base radios. They will arrive tomorrow, on the seventeenth, so all should be well for a departure on the eighteenth as planned.

Between Callum, Isugtag, Jack and the Sorenson brothers there have always been at least two men on board the Gabrielle keeping an eye on the holds, but so far nothing untoward has happened. Indeed the ship has been mostly deserted at night, most of the expedition have taken the opportunity to spend their nights sleeping in comfortable hotel beds, while the majority of the crew have been busy spending their wages in the local bars.

And so Callum is in a cheery mood when he’s called to the expedition office aboard the Gabrielle. When he arrives he finds Starkweather and Moore together with a newcomer, an athletic looking man who appears to be in his late twenties.

Moore speaks as the Scotsman enters, “Grave news I’m afraid Callum, Sykes has had an accident last night in town, nothing too serious, but unfortunately he has damaged his ankle, so there’s no question of him accompanying us to Antarctica now.”

“I’d like to introduce John Rhyes – you two have quite possibly heard of each other before – John is a very experienced climber and sailor, and luckily enough was in town and able to join us at very short notice.”

“However we’re more than just a mountaineer down. As you know Sykes was our lead guide, and also responsible for supervising the camp crews.”

“We’ve carefully considered everyone who’s left, and as you’re the only man here with both Himalayan experience and prior time in the polar regions, and as you’ve never shirked your responsibilities during this whole sabotage fiasco, we’d like to offer you the position first.”

“Do you accept?”

Moore is poker faced, as serious as would be expected under the circumstances. At his side Starkweather grins broadly, clearly busting to loudly congratulate Callum when he accepts. It’s unlikely to have entered the English explorer’s consideration that someone with proper British spirit like Callum would think twice…

"Rhyes..", John says as he offers a handshake. "..pleased to meet ya! He takes a step back giving Callum some space to decide on a reply to the offer just presented. "Sorry to hear ´bout your mate. I´ve been at bay long enough now. It was roundabout ten months since I took Mount Kenya. And I´ve been planning a sail to the ice shelves." He looks at the gentlemen and adds. "Now it seems my sweet Cleopatra can get that vaccation after all..."

Seeing Starkweather's barely concealed excitement, Callum almost dreads giving his answer to Moore. "Of course I'd be delighted to accept the position. It's the kind of opportunity that comes along maybe once or twice in a career. Thank you for the offer, and the confidence you've shown in me."

"And John, can I call you John?" asks Callum firmly grasping the offered hand, "Welcome on board. I've do recall reading about your adventures in Climbing Journals. You've been involved in some very interesting expeditions. Perhaps, when all this is over and done, we could get together and talk about them in more detail?"

The ship seemingly secure, Jack seeks to keep something of a low profile during this layover. He files the daily dispatch to his editor in order to maintain the public's excitement, but there's not much to write about expedition-wise, so he's gone for more of a "local color" angle, describing the exoticism of Australia. He's socialized some with his shipmates, especially Olof, for whom he's developed a fondness, but he's more or less stayed out of Kitt's--and Greene's--way, not to the extent of being obnoxious, but seeing no real reason to be a hindrance to what seemed more and more like a budding romance.

"You sure can, Callum! If we´re off climbing the white rockies we´d better be dib and dub with each other." John watches the team leaders Moore and Starkweather. "Are we in a race to the pole with these other expeditions or is that just a press hook?" "If I´ve read between the lines correctly, our objective is not the same as the others. This is a research-recovery expedition, right?" Obviously John have had a few pints prior the meet with the Expedition delegation. "Oy! I´m being a bad host here. What would you have for welcoming draught? Pint of beer or perhaps some wine? Gets the salty water off of yer beards!" "There´s a jolly good bar by the waterfront." John seems to believe the interview is almost over and reaches for his sea man´s sack, lifting it and looks inquisitively with raised eyebrows at the gents asking where to put it.

Ghost_1971 wrote:Seeing Starkweather's barely concealed excitement, Callum almost dreads giving his answer to Moore. "Of course I'd be delighted to accept the position. It's the kind of opportunity that comes along maybe once or twice in a career. Thank you for the offer, and the confidence you've shown in me."

Moore smiles and nods, "Good, I'll let the others know as soon as..."

"Excellent!" booms Starkweather as he strides across to Callum. Cutting between the Scotsman and Professor Moore, he shakes Callum's hand firmly and enthusiastically pats him on the back, "I knew you wouldn't let the side down Callum! Bloody shame about Sykes of course, a damn good man, but I couldn't wish for a better replacement! We'll face down those Miskotonic Mountains together man; conquer the highest peaks on Earth!"

Syrinx wrote:"Oy! I´m being a bad host here. What would you have for welcoming draught? Pint of beer or perhaps some wine? Gets the salty water off of yer beards!" "There´s a jolly good bar by the waterfront." John seems to believe the interview is almost over and reaches for his sea man´s sack, lifting it and looks inquisitively with raised eyebrows at the gents asking where to put it.

"Bloody good idea man!" replies Starkweather, finally releasing Callum, "It's the last pub before the South Pole!"

"The drinks are on me!"

"Moore! See if there's anyone else about, we could all do with a damn good drink!"

Kitt, upon hearing this, jumps up and down, waving her arms. Then she turns to Greene. "We simply must find me a really good camera. I simply must be able to take photographs!" She arches her eyebrows flirtatiously at him. "Let's do that first, yeah? Me and you?"

"I'll join you for one drink Mr.Starkweather. I'm just in the middle of helping out with the ship's security, and I can't really let the Sorensson's do it all by themselves."

"The pub is at the bottom of Waterside Hotel on the corner of King and Flinders street." John looks at the crew present. "I´ll tally off and reserve the best tables for us. They opened at 06.00 so it will be quite crowded now..."
He leaves his sack by the entrance and heads in the direction of the Waterfront.

"If you don't mind, I'll come with you John?" Callum stands, and moves along with the latest member of the crew. "I cant have someone, that's going to be working with me directly, getting into trouble now, can I?"

"Sure, Cap!" John shoots at Callum. He holds the door to the cabin open for the newly appointed guide chief. As they leave the Gabrielle John says, "I was planning on going solo down there, when all this racket about getting first to the pole began. How´s it been, the trip from the States, any hick ups? There´s been virtually no news. Just that German air force propaganda. What was that called? Belsner-Falken or something. Is that for real? Nah, well - here it is. Let me introduce you to the bar keep! Oy! this is my new boss. Callum, eh is that your first or last name?" John seems puzzled. Still smiling.

Also with a smile, Callum replies "It's my first name. Callum McDonald is my full name. And I'm from Edinburgh, well.... just outside."

"We've had quite an eventful trip down here. What with the sabotage, and the poisonings, and the murder in New York" there's only the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice as he talks to John. "Just your regular, run of the mill Starkweather expedition really. Here let me get the first round in....."

"Thank´s matie! I´ve had my share of mishaps myself. A handful of years ago when I was landed in Shanghai, I got in the middle of a criminal racket, fleeing from opium dealers and martial art types. Just barely got away. The Cleopatra saved me then getting me to the safe haven of Boston harbour." John does not go further into the Asian business. "My only memento from that trip is my shotgun. I never leave it behind on my missions. You never know when things turn sideways!" Nah, chief McDonald, it´s time for topping the glasses. So, the old Starkweather is keeping everyone on the toes then. I listened to one of his seminars once. All charts and diagrams, splendid slide shows and he really enjoys being in the centre! Speaking of the devil. There he comes." At this John manages to fill both glasses and nudges Callum over the table. "Ohoy! Attention, officers on deck!" He downs the refilled glass and stands up, ready to go over to greet the team leaders.

Beginning to become a bit drunk, Olof proposes a toast for the expedition's newest member. "I want to drink to your health, Mr. Rhyes, getting this party together with such a short notice, it is really what this crew needs after the stress we have had so far. To your health Mr. Rhyes! Skål!" Olof swallows the liqour with one smooth motion and places the shot glass on the bar waiting for a refill.